


The Firebird

by fakelight



Series: Impressing the Czar [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakelight/pseuds/fakelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“For the benefit of the Grade 1 students who have never attended a reaping before, the Prix de Panem is the most prestigious ballet competition in the country. All students between the ages of eleven and eighteen are eligible to compete, but only two will be chosen. One male. One female."</p><p>Ballet AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s 5:15 in the morning when Katniss Everdeen gives sleep up as a lost cause and heads to the studios.

She’s supposed to be meeting her best friend and pas de deux partner at 6:30 anyway, so she drags herself out of bed, pulling on a forest green leotard over her tights, before slipping out of the room she shares with her fellow Grade 6 classmate, Madge Undersee, who lives a simpler life and thus is unburdened with Katniss’ worries and is sleeping soundly.

Flipping the light on in Studio A, Katniss catches a glimpse of herself under the harsh light of the fluorescents and makes a face. She’s all ratty hair, gawky limbs, and bags under her eyes. Gale better be bringing coffee.

Gale Hawthorne shoulders the door open an hour later to find Katniss already warm, mid-penchée in the center of the studio. They had been neighbors, and classmates previous to their time at the academy, training under Gale’s mother in her studio below the Hawthorne's apartment. He had been admitted to the academy two years before Katniss joined, and she doesn’t know what she’d do without him.

“I thought we said 6:30. Also, turn out more,” he says as he walks toward the front of the studio.

“We did, I couldn’t sleep. Also, screw you. Is that coffee?” she asks, relaxing her upper body and placing both hands on the floor.

He nods, and sets one next to her dance bag. Dropping her leg, she walks toward the front of the studio, sprawling out next to him as he pulls on some warm-ups.

“You nervous?” he asks while she takes a tentative sip.

Katniss swallows, and grimaces. “Of course I’m nervous, this could be the end of her career as she knows it. She’s putting on a good face, but she wants this for a life even more than I do . . .” she trails off, knitting her eyebrows at Gale’s confusion.

“What are you talking about? I’m talking about the reaping,” he says, shaking his head.

“The reaping is _today_?” Katniss is dumbfounded.

“Yeah. It’s today. Why the hell else are we meeting this early in the morning? What are you talking about?”

Gale is mostly sarcastic at the best of times, but it’s extra potent before he’s had any coffee. Katniss thinks this is probably why they make such good partners.

“Prim’s doctor’s appointment is today. It’s why I couldn’t sleep. My mother’s insisting on it, she thinks this never ending pulled muscle is something more. The Prix de Panem drawing is today? I thought it wasn’t until next month!”

Katniss thinks back to the conversation she’d had with Madge the night previous, which suddenly makes more sense in context. She’d asked what variations Katniss had been preparing and Katniss had shrugged, knowing that the end of year production-slash-judgement day was months away and she had plenty of time to decide. Mr. A hadn’t chosen her for any of the smaller grand prix competitions, so she hadn’t been working on anything in particular.

But with the Prix de Panem looming, Katniss suddenly feels woefully underprepared. Anyone can be up as tribute. With all her worrying about Prim, she hasn’t even considered that the most important competition of the year is in a matter of weeks.

Gale laughs at the look on Katniss’ face. “It’ll be fine. You’ve never been picked before, and it’s definitely not going to happen this year. I’m sure they’ll reap some 14-year-old wunderkind and you won’t have to worry about screwing up in front of the entire country—hey!” He dodges the smack Katniss aims at the hand holding his coffee.

“You know I would have known it was the Prix if I wasn’t worried about Prim! And you know I want to be picked—winning basically guarantees you a contract with Capitol Ballet,” she sighs.

“But you’re right, it won’t be me. It won’t be you either, by the way. I guarantee you, it’s rigged, there aren’t any names in the bowls. Just one slip of paper with Mr. A’s pick on it. All of this ‘we must all be the best so all of us can represent the school at any time’ nonsense is too hard to believe. It’s just their way of pushing us even harder than they already are. When’s the last time Twelve even won? And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know I exist, so why would I be his choice?”

Katniss lies back, resigned, looking up as Gale finishes stretching, stands, and leans over her.

“Prim will be fine. It’s just a pulled muscle. And Mr. A definitely knows who you are. You're in the top three in your Grade if you decide to turn it on. Now, do you want to work on that combination from class yesterday or finger turns?”

Still on the floor, Katniss shrugs up at him. “I guess the combination, but it won’t matter. The Prix is a solo competition.”

“Actually, it’s not,” Gale corrects her, pulling her up. “If you compete with a pas, both competitors win. It’s just never happened before.”

“And it certainly won’t happen this year, with a 14-year-old wunderkind that is definitely not you or me representing Twelve,” Katniss says, annoyed and resigned, and comes to meet Gale in front of the mirrors.

His gaze grows distant, and she immediately regrets her words. She knows he’s hoping to be picked—this is his last year at the academy, and he’s hoping for a corps contract with the local company. Just making it to the competition could open all sorts of doors for him.

“I’m just kidding. It’s definitely going to be you. Someone has to lift the wunderkind, right?”

He smiles weakly. “Prim will be fine,” he says again, with a reassuring note in his voice, clearly hoping to move on from talk of the Prix.

He holds his hand out to her, and she takes it. “Now, ready?”

* * *

After an hour of working with Gale, Katniss makes her way to her first class of the day, entering the studio to find her roommate already sitting in her spot at the barre.

Looking up as Katniss approaches, Madge spreads her arms and asks, "Where were you this morning? I woke up and you were gone.”

“Couldn’t sleep, I met up with Gale in one of the basement studios,” Katniss replies, raising an eyebrow at her roommate. “Want me to invite you along next time?”

“While I certainly wouldn’t mind doing a shoulder sit with your partner, or maybe a sit somewhere else,” Madge smirks, “you never answered me last night. What have you been prepping for the Prix?”

Katniss sighs. “Would you believe me if I said nothing? I mean, I’ve got Esmeralda in my pocket but I was hoping to really have Black Swan ready, but with Prim, I totally forgot the reaping was today.”

“You forgot?!” Madge screeches, then shrinks as half the room turns to look at her.

“Sorry,” she whispers, “but it’s only the biggest competition of the entire year. How could you forget? Also don’t say reaping, you know Madame T hates that word.”

Katniss rolls her eyes. “Drawing, fine.”

Madge rolls her eyes in return. “Well, Esmeralda is better than that Medora variation no one does anymore, which is all I have. But we have to get picked first, so don’t worry about it for now. Don't worry about Prim, either.”

Madge holds her hands out to Katniss and opens her legs into a straddle. “Stretch me out? We don’t all have handsome best friends who work us out first thing in the morning.”

* * *

After a particularly grueling class, Katniss makes her way to the largest studio at DTBA without bothering to take off her shoes or skirt. She still hasn’t heard from Prim, who has gone off campus for the doctor or for some sort of tests, she can’t remember which now, and she’s having trouble keeping from panicking.

Prim loves the school, loves everything about it. Daily class, living in tiny dorm rooms, the neverending pressure that comes from existing in a world where every single moment is focused on ballet.

The main reason Katniss had even auditioned for the academy was because she heard it was easier for younger siblings to get in if they already had a family connection to the school, and Prim’s heart was set on it.

When Katniss was accepted, she’s pretty sure Prim was more excited than her, and she received a letter almost every day. “What are the classes like? Are you in pointe shoes every day? Can Gale lift you over his head yet?”

As she enters, she sees that all of the barres in Studio 10 have been hauled out, and a large table has been placed in front of the mirrors, two glass bowls sitting on it.

Behind the table stands Haymitch Abernathy, the Artistic Director of District Twelve Ballet Academy, Madame Trinket, and two people who have to be the representatives from the Prix.

Everyone’s staring and simultaneously trying not to make eye contact with the visitors.

Katniss shuffles her way through the milling students, and finally relevés up once she reaches Gale, balancing herself with a hand on his shoulder to see if she can catch a glimpse of her sister with the benefit of the couple extra inches her pointe shoes give her.

Scanning the crowd, she finally sees Prim standing near the front with the rest of her Grade 1 class, still in street clothes. Katniss begins to call her name and move toward her, but at that moment Madame Trinket claps her hands and the room quiets down.

“Good afternoon, students,” she says brightly, smiling at the chorus of “Good afternoon, Madame Trinket,” that comes in response, mostly from the younger, unjaded students. “As you all are aware, today is the drawing for the Prix de Panem.”

“The Hunger Games,” someone coughs, and the entire room titters.

Madame Trinket purses her lips. “This academy is proud to send its finest competitors to represent our district every year,” she chooses to continue on, seemingly disregarding the remark regarding the underground nickname for the competition.

(Although Katniss is absolutely sure the perpetrator just got shunted down to a group number in the end of year production.)

“And if your name is drawn, I am sure you will perform to the best of your ability, and make our Artistic Director proud. Haymitch?” she says, gesturing for him to come forward.

Mr. A stands in front of them, his feet resting in a relaxed fourth.

A former Prix winner himself, he had lost the Artistic Directorship of the Capitol Ballet Company after his retirement as principal and was lucky, it was said, to be in charge of his old school. Whispered in the hallways were rumors that it was due to the painkiller problem he’d picked up after rupturing his Achilles onstage mid-entrechat as Albrecht, but he still commanded the attention of a room, and somehow it gets even quieter as he glares at all of them.

“For the benefit of the Grade 1 students who have never attended a reaping before, the Prix de Panem is the most prestigious ballet competition in the country. All students between the ages of eleven and eighteen are eligible to compete, but only two will be chosen. One male. One female. This same production,” he gestures to the table behind him, “is happening at the ballet academies of One through Eleven, picking who you’ll have to take down to win. To prove that all of our students are adequately prepared for the rigors of competition, and eventually, a career as a dancer, rather than me choosing the best of you, names will be selected at random. I hope the two of you selected will not disappoint.”

At that, Mr. A turns and stalks out of the room, clearly unconcerned with the caliber of student that will be chosen as tribute to the ballet gods of the Capitol. Perhaps he thinks they aren’t up to the task. Katniss doesn’t blame him. Twelve hasn’t had a winner since he won, 25 years ago.

Madame Trinket looks caught off guard at his abrupt departure, but comes to stand in front of the two glass bowls that hold the names of every student in the school. “Well, then. The drawing,” she stresses, “will proceed now. Mademoiselles first,” she simpers, her hand reaching into the bowl on the left, snatching a single slip of paper and reading the name aloud.

“Primrose Everdeen.”

Katniss gasps and seeks Prim’s face in the crowd, watching as her sister gracefully moves to the center of the room and bobs a quick curtsy. Everyone is applauding, Prim’s classmates the loudest.

There is murmuring throughout the room, as Grade 1 students rarely, if ever, are picked. Yet somehow, they tend to do well with the judges. Something about so much talent, so young.

Katniss beams with pride at the sight of her sister standing alone, soaking in the adulation. Her first year in the school, and now she will represent them all. Katniss’ mind works through the variations her sister has, already planning her strategy, when she hears something that makes her heart stop.

“Madame Trinket, I regret that I will not be able to compete, for medical reasons.” Prim’s high voice instantly causes the entire room to go silent once more.

Katniss’ stomach drops. What is wrong with Prim?

She sees Prim’s shoulders square, and inexplicably, a smile appear on her face as she continues. “I would have told you before the reap- drawing, Madame, but I’ve only just returned from the doctor.”

Madame Trinket looks like she’s about to strangle someone. Prim surges on, not allowing an interruption.

“However, I believe that per the Prix rules, I am allowed to select my replacement?” Prim asks innocently. Katniss narrows her eyes. Madame Trinket frowns.

“I will have to check the rule book, Miss Everdeen, however—” She stops speaking as the male Capitol representative stands.

Just by his fluid movement, Katniss can tell he’s a dancer. Trained in the Capitol. He must be one of the coaches.

“She’s quite right, Miss Trinket. Per the charter of the Prix de Panem, if a student must withdraw, they have the right to name their replacement.”

Prim grins.

“In that case, I volunteer my sister, Katniss Everdeen.”

Katniss goes numb.

The sound drops out of the room, and though her eyes tell her that the people moving their hands together are clapping for her, she doesn’t understand why. The students standing around her all take a step back, ostensibly to let her pass, but her feet are locked in place. Gale nudges her in the back. Katniss knows something is expected of her, but it’s all she can do is force herself to step forward on legs that look far steadier than she feels.

As she reaches Prim, Katniss makes a deep reverence. Turning to Madame Trinket, Katniss can do nothing but drop another curtsy and try to get out of the way. Her. The Prix de Panem tribute. It’s not possible.

Madame Trinket takes a deep breath, clearly out of sorts at this turn of events, but soldiers on under the serene gaze of the man and woman from the Capitol, who seem at the very least, not displeased by Katniss’ selection. The man glances over Katniss appraisingly and looks thoughtful.

As Madame places her hand into the bowl that contains the boy’s names, Katniss finally catches Prim’s eye, and mouths, “What happened?”

Prim shakes her head, and motions for Katniss to pay attention. Katniss tries to get Prim to look at her again, but by then Prim is already clapping and smiling at someone walking toward her. A blond-haired, blue-eyed someone. A blond-haired, blue-eyed someone, who is bowing to her with his hand over his heart.

Peeta Mellark.

Katniss tries to keep her face impassive, but as he moves to stand next to her, she can’t help glancing at him. His lips spasm into what she can tell is what’s meant to be a smile, but she can tell he’s just as nervous as she is, so it ends up looking more like he’s trying to hold something back.

She’s suddenly very glad she’s still in pointe shoes, that she looks the part of a competent competitor. Anything to make this boy, this boy who’s seen her at her worst, think that she’s someone he could lose to.

Katniss blinks quickly, and realizes the room is clearing. Madame Trinket has dismissed the rest of the students for their next class, while she and Peeta are left alone in the room with the two Prix representatives.

Katniss breathes in and out and smells that she has coffee breath. What is she doing here? She can’t be the tribute, she can’t.

The man from the Capitol is standing in front of them now, and introducing himself as Cinna. “And that’s Portia, over there,” pointing at the woman who spreading some papers out on the table. “You’ll need to sign some things, and then we’ll go over everything. Congratulations, by the way. On being picked.”

“Yes, well, it’s nice to have two from the same Grade for once—last year we had ones from 2 and 7 and we couldn’t fit them together at all, they had to dance separately,” Madame Trinket says as she comes to join them. “You two do know each other, correct?”

Katniss still can’t seem to speak.

“Um, yeah. But we have different partners in partnering class. And you know, um, I’m not exactly in the girls classes. But yeah, we know each other. Right, Katniss?” Peeta’s voice is a little gravelly, like he can’t swallow. He’s looking anywhere but at her. Katniss nods. “Wonderful!” Madame cries.

Katniss catches what Madame had said two seconds before, and frowns. “What do you mean, fit together? We will be dancing our own variations, right?”

“Haymitch wants to try a new strategy, but we’ll go over that later,” Cinna explains calmly. “For now, think of yourselves as partners. Do both of you know how the Prix works?”

Peeta nods, but Katniss shakes her head.

 _Of course he’s aware_ , Katniss thinks. His brother was a competitor a few years before. He hadn’t done well, and hadn’t been allowed to return to the school after. One of the many reasons they call it the reaping.

Katniss blanches. Could that happen to her? If she does poorly, will she be able to continue dancing? She puts the thought out of her mind.

“We’ll be with you for three weeks in the Capitol, to coach you in your selected piece. Each District has been assigned a different ballet, and you’ll be performing something from it, rather than something you’ve prepped beforehand. Oh, and at some point before the Prix you two will have your photographs taken in costume.”

Katniss is taken aback. She’ll be dancing something new?

“Photographs? For what?” she asks, just to have something to say. “For the program, I think,” Peeta says. “Something like that,” Cinna smiles.

“Now, like I said, there's a bit of a twist this year. The judges have decided that they want to honor the tradition of the great ballets, so each District has a different one. One is _Jewels_ , and Two is _Bayadère_ —lucky them. Lots of things to choose from there.” “Four is _Le Corsaire_ , I think, Finnick was crowing over getting Ali,” Portia adds. “Eleven is _Don Q_ , and I can’t remember the rest, sorry, but you two will be doing one of my favorites,” Cinna continues.

“ _The Firebird_.”

Katniss doesn’t know the ballet well, just the musical themes, but she plasters a look of recognition on her face.

Peeta isn’t quite as successful and just looks confused. “Sorry, but isn’t there not a lot of dancing in that one?” he asks.

Cinna laughs. “There’s more than enough to impress the judges. And speaking of, I think it’s time to get a look at you two. I’m assuming you’re both still warm?”

Katniss shrugs. Peeta nods. This partnership is off to a great start.

Portia directs them both to the corner and has them do a few jump passes.

Katniss flies through the grand jetés easily, but she can tell in the mirror that Peeta is more of a turner. Or maybe he’s one of those guys who gets through class by picking up women and moving them from place to place. He certainly has the arms for it.

Portia seems to think the same thing, because next she has them turning in the center. Peeta rips off five pirouettes like it’s nothing, confirming Katniss’ suspicions. When Portia asks her to do the same, Katniss falls out of her second pirouette. It’s extremely embarrassing.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just a little out of sorts,” Katniss tries to explain, but Portia just blinks. “Maybe you’ll do better with some partnered pirouettes. Please?”

Katniss moves to stand in front of Peeta. She has a vague recollection of them doing this once before, early on, before their partners had been set and Madame T had been mixing and matching them. They didn’t exchange any words then either. She can’t remember the quality of their turns, but she does remember his hands on her waist.

They settle there again now, shaking slightly. He must still be nervous. Katniss gets into her fourth, pliés, and springs up into her pirouette. Her nerves are with her too, because it’s off, she’s off center, she can tell that from the first revolution.

But then she feels Peeta’s hands, steadier now, balancing her, spinning her. Her spot is in the mirror, and she catches glimpses of him as she turns, a look of utter concentration on his face, like the only thing that matters is keeping her upright. After five or six turns, he slows her and she balances in passé, then comes down. She tries to smile at him gratefully, but it ends up looking more like a scowl.

“Better,” Portia pronounces.

“Lifts?” Cinna calls from the corner, where he’s conferring with Madame T.

“Sure,” Peeta agrees. Katniss places her hands on her hips. “What would you like to see?” she asks, trying to project confidence.

“Give us a Bluebird, please?” Cinna asks.

It’s the easiest lift, the first one you learn after the shoulder sit, but Katniss hasn’t done this with anyone other than Gale, ever.

She moves to stand in front of Peeta, and prepares to chassé back. He seems a little calmer, which is good, but she still doesn’t know what to expect. His eyes still flick away from hers when she tries to look at him.

As she approaches him, he lowers his left shoulder and grasps her hand as she jumps into the lift. He straightens his legs, and moves to support her sternum as she holds her arms up, his other hand firm on her back. He’s strong, stronger than she expected, and she feels like maybe they might work well together after all.

He finally meets her eyes in the mirror and raises an eyebrow, lessening the support he has on her center. She nods, and he removes his hand entirely, placing it in a grand second, letting her do the work of holding herself up. It’s a showy move, one she wouldn’t have normally felt comfortable with, but she likes that he trusts in her strength.

Cinna applauds. “Very nice,” he beams.

Peeta lets her down, and she walks in a circle, shaking her legs out.

“That was good. That felt good,” Peeta says quietly. She nods. Suddenly there is a trust between them. He didn’t drop her. She didn’t fall on him.

Cinna and Portia have them do a few more things, some fishes, some overhead lifts, a quick traveling combination, and then they separate to show off their variations, even if they won’t be performing them in the Prix. Katniss tries to ignore the buzzing she feels all over, sure that it’s still nerves and not the lingering feeling of Peeta’s arm wrapped around her.

* * *

Surprisingly, Cinna, not Portia, is her coach, and he makes brief conversation about how glad he was to show up Madame T when Prim volunteered her as they walk to one of the smaller studios. “I’d never seen it happen before in Twelve, but it is in the rules. Something about knowing what’s best for the school. You must be very proud of her, she seems very self-possessed.”

Katniss realizes that in the heat of the excitement, she’s completely forgotten about Prim. And now there’s no chance to find her. Katniss resolves to go straight to Prim’s room once she’s done.

“So Katniss, what do you have to show me?” Cinna asks, settling into a chair next to the pianist.

“Oh, um,” she says lamely. “Well, I have Esmeralda,” but Cinna is already shaking his head.

“No, no props. I want to see you, not the fact that you can bang a tambourine.” “So, I guess that means Kitri is out as well?” Katniss asks. She doesn’t even have that one up to speed, but the fan dance is always a crowd favorite.

“Don’t forget, this is just for me. Let me see what you can do,” Cinna says reassuringly.

“Okay, well, I have the Black Swan variation, but it’s not quite ready,” Katniss explains, but Cinna stops her before she can continue. “Sounds perfect. Let’s see it.”

As Katniss walks to the back of the room, she reviews the choreography in her head, and tries to breathe deeply. This is her chance to impress Cinna, to prove that she belongs in the Prix, to show off how she can perform a prepared piece.

As the pianist starts playing, she begins to turn, luckily with a steadier pirouette than the one she had fallen out of before.

Losing herself in the music, she remembers why this is one of her favorite variations, the boureés, the jumps, the disconnect but strange harmony between the fiery Black Swan and the sweet, twinkly music.

She’s halfway through the renversés when she realizes Mr. A is watching through the open door, and she almost stumbles. But she grits her teeth and continues on, and aims her final chaînés at Mr. A, stopping directly in front of him. She drops a quick curtsy, and then walks back to the center.

Mr. A follows her, eyeing her up and down while she catches her breath. “Well, at the very least you’ve got what they’re looking for,” he says, brusquely.

“I’m sorry?” Katniss asks, bewildered.

“The Hunger Games. They like them long and lean. You won’t need to starve yourself. That boy however, he’s gonna have to stop with all that bread,” he snorts. Katniss is mostly annoyed, but a little relieved.

“That was good, Katniss,” Cinna says from the corner. “We’ll need to work on your jumps for _Firebird_ , but it’s nice to know you have the arms down.”

Mr. A gestures at Cinna, something that seems to mean “Carry on”, and walks out of the room. Being around him is starting to feel like whiplash.

Katniss looks down at her feet, flexing them inside her shoes. She’s never been good at accepting compliments, but the knowledge that her arms are passable gives her a warm feeling inside. Of course, the criticism of her jumps stings, but she can work on that.

“Let me see that a few more times,” Cinna says, “and let’s see if you can punch up those jumps some more. See where you can improve.”

Katniss goes through it again and again, each time concentrating on the area where Cinna finds faults, and starts to feel like it’s a futile effort. Nothing she changes makes her feel any better, but Cinna seems pleased.

Madame Trinket pops her head in around an hour later and tells Cinna that Portia has things to discuss with him.

“That’s it for us, Katniss. We’ll start learning the choreography for your Prix piece after we arrive in the Capitol,” Cinna says as he walks out the door. “Good work today.”

Katniss nods, breathing heavily, not trusting her voice to not wobble. It’s been a long day, and the emotions are starting to pile up.

Madame sighs at Katniss, leaning on the door jamb. “Well, Katniss, I’m guessing you didn’t expect this. But I’m sure you’re grateful to your sister, of course.”

Katniss’ stomach contracts. She needs to find Prim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Penchée](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRDo9gyYHRg), [grand jeté](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHivyA_fwpA), [partnered pirouettes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MoaDv1hxv8), [Bluebird lift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAIUlOUpCjU).
> 
> [Esmeralda variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WV0jT1Do6NQ)
> 
> [That Medora variation no one does anymore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=COd2Pvz7e0U)
> 
> [Kitri variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiQDaEOFRLY)
> 
> [Black Swan variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDir5_vrb4I)


	2. Chapter 2

Katniss finds Prim sitting with Gale, Prim explaining something animatedly in the student lounge. Prim sees her as she enters and immediately runs at her, slamming into her with all the strength an injured twelve-year old ballerina can possess.

“There you are! How was it?! I’m so happy for you!” Prim exclaims, wrapping her arms around her sister.

Katniss returns the hug, but immediately pulls back and searches Prim’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Why did you withdraw?”

Prim shrugs off Katniss’ worry. “It’s nothing. Stretched sciatic nerve. I’m off for three months. Nothing but PT and floor class for me.”

Katniss drops her bag on the floor, holding Prim at arm’s length, her worry nowhere near abated. “Prim! You are twelve years old. This isn’t supposed to happen. This is serious!”

“Yes, yes, it’s serious, but you’re competing in the Prix! That is way more serious!”

Katniss gives Prim a resigned look. “Only because you gave up your spot for me. I can’t believe you did that, by the way. I’m going to owe you forever.”

Prim smiles smugly. “I know, and I will never forget that. So what’s it like? Who are those two people who were at the reaping?”

Gale stands as Prim peppers Katniss with questions, and gives her a quick hug. “I knew it would be you. You’re going to kill them all.”

He walks away before Katniss has a chance to respond.

Prim watches him leave with a sad expression on her face. “He’s really happy for you. He just wishes he was going too. He wants to be there with you.”

Katniss is at a loss. She should want Gale with her too, shouldn’t she? But he won’t be. He can’t. She has to win this by herself. For Prim.

Prim won’t leave Katniss’ side, helping her pack her things into a large official-looking bag Madame drops off later in the evening. It’s late by the time Katniss finishes, and Prim is already curled into a little ball at the foot of Katniss’ bed, fast asleep. Madge is already snoring, and Katniss can’t bear to wake Prim up, so she spends her last night at the academy with her arms wrapped around her sister.

“I’ll miss you, my lame duck,” Katniss sighs as she hugs Prim goodbye the next morning. “Don’t overdo it, okay? Do exactly what the doctor says. We need to get you healthy.”

Prim nods against Katniss’ side, and squeezes her tighter. “I can’t believe you just made a piqué tour joke.”

Katniss laughs.

“You’re going to win. I know it.” Prim’s voice is suddenly serious. “You’ll be back here for sure.”

Katniss can’t quite agree. What if she fails? She makes her voice extra bright for Prim as she confirms that of course she’s going to win, and then Madame T is pulling her away.

* * *

After they’ve settled into their compartment on the train, Cinna and Portia call them all together to discuss their piece. “You two have figured out, no doubt, that we’re going to be shaking things up a bit. No variations here, you’ll be dancing the Firebird and Prince Ivan pas de deux from the beginning of the ballet.”

Katniss had expected something like this after the partner comment yesterday, but it’s still surprising. “But no one has ever won—”

Mr. A cuts her off. “Until this year. I’m tired of the same old jump jump turn turn, turning jump kneel applause bullshit. We’re doing this my way, and we’re going to win.”

Katniss glances over at Peeta. His eyes are wide.

“Any objections?” Mr. A snaps. No one responds. “You two will be dancing together, and you will be perfect. Understood?” He points at both of them in turn. Katniss and Peeta both nod after a brief delay. “Fantastic. I’ll be in the bar car.” He stalks off, leaving Cinna smiling at both of them.

Portia explains the schedule to them as the train speeds its way to the Capitol, daily group class, followed by coaching sessions where they’ll learn and perfect their piece over the next three weeks. Also a photoshoot, private sessions where they’ll rehearse in front of the judges, a previous winner’s gala where they must make an appearance, then the competition itself. Katniss feels like it might be too much. A quick look at Peeta tells her he’s feeling the same way. She realizes that Cinna has started talking and forces herself to listen.

“- is about. Katniss, you are the Firebird, a mythical creature who has magical feathers, or magical powers, depending on the interpretation. Peeta, you are Prince Ivan. Your goal is to capture Katniss. Some variations of the story say you want to kill her, but the end goal here is to have her in your possession.”

“Over the course of the piece, the Firebird manages to convince Ivan to let her go free, but in return she gives him a single feather and promises to come to his aid should he ever need it. It’s a lot of quick jumps, supported grand jetés, some bigger lifts. I think you two will be able to pick it up pretty quickly.”

Katniss does a bad job hiding her fear, but she tells Cinna she can’t wait, and then escapes to her room. She spends the rest of the afternoon sewing pointe shoe ribbons and trying not to panic. She fails at the latter, so when Peeta knocks on her door before dinner, she’s relieved, if only to have a moment where she’s not in her own head, imagining her own downfall.

“Hey,” he says, looking down at where Katniss is laid out on the floor. She had been stretching, and then she had relaxed into a vaguely comfortable position and hadn’t moved for ten minutes.

“Hey.” She pushes herself into a seated position, and he comes to join her.

“So.”

“So.” She’s not sure what to say.

“Katniss. We're dancing together. In the Prix.” Now it’s her turn to look anywhere but at him.

"Yes."

“And I’m sorry.” He actually sounds like he means it. Katniss has no idea where he’s going with this. “What on earth are you sorry for?”

“Well, normally you’d be on your own. You’d be onstage by yourself. You’d have a chance of winning. And now you’re stuck with me. And I’m going to drag you down.”

Katniss doesn’t know which is worse, that Peeta actually sounds like he believes all of this, or that this is the longest conversation the two of them have ever had. She owes him more than this, more than than avoidance. She takes a deep breath, and lifts her eyes to his.

“Don’t say that. If anything, I’m the one who’s going to ruin your chances. I’m the one who barely got into the school in the first place.” Peeta laughs at that, but he relaxes a little, leans his back against the wall. She’s touched on their shared history, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn't give her any indication that he’s holding anything against her, so she moves on.

“And yesterday,” Katniss continues, “that was good. I mean, us. We were good. Together. I mean, we,” she mimes the lift with her hands, “that was good.” Could she say good any more times? She’s not great with words on a normal day, but how does she describe what happened in that studio? The trust that they’d found.

Peeta seems to understand what she’s saying, even if he doesn’t look reassured.

“So you know it? _Firebird_?” she asks, hoping her change of the subject isn’t obvious.

Peeta shrugs. “A little. I’ve seen it.”

“And?” Katniss prompts.

“I think we’re going to have a hard time competing against one of the big flashy solos, even if there are two of us.” Peeta says it in a matter of fact sort of way, but Katniss can see the worry he's trying to conceal.

“I’m sure Mr. A wouldn’t have us doing this if he didn’t think we could win,” Katniss protests weakly.

“I bet he would if he thinks he could make some sort of statement,” Peeta scoffs.

“What kind of statement would he be trying to make? And to who?”

“The judges? Snow?” Katniss can’t comprehend using the Prix as some sort of vehicle for Mr. A’s personal vendetta against the man who wronged him.

“I don’t know. Maybe to prove that he doesn’t have to play by their rules. And if that’s what it is, I understand where he’s coming from. When . . .” Peeta trails off. Katniss knows what he was going to say.

“Your brother?”

Peeta blows out a little breath. “That’s not why I’m here." He looks distressed. "I mean, that's not why I'm competing. My brother. I could have withdrawn, like your sister. I mean. I don’t know. Forget I said anything.” He stops talking abruptly.

Katniss can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, so she doesn’t press. They sit in silence for a few minutes, but while Katniss waits for it to feel awkward, it never does. Then Peeta’s offering her a hand up. “Dinner? Mr. A keeps saying I have to cut out bread for some reason.”

* * *

When they pull into the Capitol the next morning, they’re whisked off to the studios and immediately thrown into the hornet’s nest.

Cinna points out their private studio (Studio 12, impossible to forget) on their way to group class, gives them their district numbers to pin on, and then Katniss and Peeta are left to fend for themselves. Katniss sizes up the rest of the tributes as she and Peeta take their places at the barre.

The girl from One has extension for days. The boy from Two is all corded muscle, but his jumps have no elevation. The boy from Four can’t spot. Katniss is impressed by the girl from Eleven, a tiny thing probably the same Grade as Prim, who holds her balances like they’re nothing. The girl from Five stands too close to Katniss at the barre and almost kicks her during grand battements. She knows it’s a mind game, but Katniss is seething by the time they head to center.

The judges are seated at the front of the room, two Katniss doesn’t recognize, but the third is known across the country. Coriolanus Snow, head judge, current Artistic Director of the CBC, and the man who has held the career of every competitor in the competition throughout the years in his hands. He’s talking to the man next to him, who has the most ridiculous beard Katniss has ever seen.

Katniss and Peeta make it through the class fairly unscathed, except for her forgetting the petit allegro halfway through. She was able to fake her way through by following the boy from Eight in front of her, but she thinks the last judge noticed.

Cinna and Portia are hunched over a laptop, reviewing choreography on the floor when Katniss and Peeta enter Studio 12. Looking up, Portia waves them over as Cinna asks how class went.

“It was okay,” Katniss says noncommittally.

“The judges couldn’t stop watching Katniss,” Peeta grins. Katniss whirls on him.

“What? No they weren’t!”

He smirks at her shock. “I’m sure they couldn’t help it, you’re pretty magnetic when you get going.”

Katniss stammers for a second. “Peeta did four pirouettes into a double double tour,” she proclaims, a little too loud.

Portia raises her eyebrows, impressed. “You saw that?” Peeta asks.

Cinna saves Katniss from having to respond by asking her if she’s ready to start. The next six hours are spent learning the choreography, which is exactly what Cinna promised it would be. By the end of rehearsal, she never wants to do another grand jeté.

Two seconds after Cinna and Portia have gathered their things and left, Katniss flops onto the floor, completely spent. Peeta laughs at this, and nudges her side with his foot. “Are you dead?”

Katniss groans. “It’s just so much jumping! And the arms! I know I’m supposed to be a bird, but enough is enough.”

Peeta takes a more controlled route to the floor, but as he sits, he says, “Don’t forget, I’m the one lifting you to those avian heights. I don’t mind the arabesques, though.”

Katniss looks over at Peeta apologetically. “Sorry, by the way. It seems all you get to do is lift me.”

Peeta shrugs. “That’s basically every pas de deux in existence. I’m pretty used to it. And I’ll probably stand out more lifting you than I would have doing my own variation.”

Katniss isn’t sure why he’s doing this, why he keeps putting himself down. She’d watched him all through class, and he’s incredible, all clean lines and precise placements. She wishes she knew him better, to know how to reassure him, but she's not prepared for that. All she can do for now is pat him on the foot in a comforting kind of way. “We’ll make those judges like us if it kills me. Which it might. If I have to do. Another grand jeté.”

Peeta smiles, but it’s a little strained, a little sarcastic. “Well, it’s nothing but this for two weeks. Get ready.”

Katniss groans again, and rolls over onto her stomach. Talking into the floor, she says, “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but do you want to go through this again tonight? Not that I’m aching for more jumps, but—”

“Yes,” Peeta answers quickly. He looks determined as she shifts and looks over at him. “We can use all the practice we can get.” Katniss breathes a little easier. They’re in this together. She won’t let him down. She can give him this.

* * *

Two weeks later, Katniss and Peeta have settled into a routine. Every day the same: class, rehearsal, coaching, fixing the tiniest errors. Mr. A stands in the corner and scowls, occasionally making an astute correction.

Cinna and Portia work with Katniss and Peeta individually, working on their acting, their motivations. Katniss thinks this is a little ridiculous, as she’s a bird. Her motivation is to not spend the rest of her life in a birdcage.

Peeta confesses the same to Katniss once they’re back together. “At least I develop as a character, by the end I feel something and agree to let you go. I don’t know what you can grow toward other than being _more_ of a bird?”

When rehearsal is done, they part to clean up, for a healthy dinner. But without discussing it, they meet again every evening in their studio, rehearsing, over and over, with no one else around.

Making the corrections Cinna and Portia have pointed out during their daily coaching sessions. Finding moments in the choreography they can make their own. They barely speak while they’re dancing, relying on single words or marking things out with their hands.

Occasionally they go a little crazy, listening to so much Stravinsky, and they put on other ballets. Sometimes they fake their way through different variations. Peeta tries to do the male _Theme and Variations_ solo and falls laughing on the floor somewhere after his third failed double tour.

Katniss tries Gamzatti because she’s convinced the girl from Two will be performing it and then gives up, leaving it to the girl from Two. They practice lifts they’ve never done together, they do partnered turns for an hour at a time. Once they attempt the Black Swan coda, which they never speak of again.

But once they’re done, and stretching, cooling down, they talk. It’s mostly Peeta, telling stories about his parents’ bakery back home, or both of them sizing up their fellow tributes, but he’s gotten her to venture forth some details about herself, although most of her stories are about Prim.

The more they know about each other, the better they seem to dance the next day. Each night they stay later, and only once has Madame T come in to tell them they need to rest before class the next morning.

She's found herself wanting to win for more than herself lately, for more than to honor Prim. She wants to win for Peeta. So they can win together. So she can give him something in return, in return for the debt she owes him, one she thought she could never repay.

* * *

One night, Katniss is taking her shoes off when Peeta asks her out of the blue, “So what’s your favorite step?”

Katniss stares at him. “What?”

“I think you can tell a lot about a person based on what their favorite step is.” Peeta looks genuinely curious, so Katniss indulges him.

“Piqué tour. What’s yours?”

“Cabriole. But not the showy ones. Just, beat and done.”

Katniss considers this. She likes piqué tours because it’s about aiming your sight on something and then going there. There’s something of an attack about a piqué. Peeta’s favorite step is about coming together, but there’s a goal there too. She supposes in some strange way, they fit their steps. “Makes sense,” she says eventually, a faint smile on her lips.

Peeta grins at her. “Told you.”

He gives her a hand up and as he gathers his things together, Katniss watches him. She has a dizzy feeling in her stomach and realizes the last time she felt this was the first time they danced together. She’d chalked it up to nerves, but this is something else.

Katniss thinks back to all the times they’ve had their hands all over each other over the past two weeks, and how she’d felt nothing. She amends that thought, not _nothing_ , but it was just partners learning how to dance together. It’s natural to feel something. But this is something more. She’d given him something real. Something true about herself.

 _Oh no_ , she thinks. She’s not supposed to feel things. This is ballet. She owes it to herself and Peeta too much to let herself falter.

Peeta glances back at Katniss, who must look stricken, because he drops his bag and comes over to her. “Are you okay?” he asks, clearly worried. He’s holding her by her upper arms, and the buzzing only intensifies.

Katniss coughs, then does her best to laugh it off. “Just thinking about the photoshoot tomorrow.”

Peeta looks relieved. “Right. At least you’ll be in something recognizable, I have no idea what I’m going to be wearing. Portia just keeps asking how I look in red.”

Katniss makes a face, which makes Peeta laugh. He gestures for her go ahead as he flips off the lights. She waits in the hallway for him to emerge, thinking they only have a week more of this. After this they can go back to being not partners anymore. They’ll win (they have to win, she has to win, for him, for herself, for Prim), and they’ll move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Piqué tour](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RLFMGqB0dLw) (Katniss' step), [Cabriole](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3R6VPk0BdNQ) (Peeta's step)
> 
> [_The Firebird_ pas de deux](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0MpwTEkzqQ&t=5m22s)
> 
> [Male _Theme and Variations_ solo](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgCareuuxK4&t=7m52s)
> 
> [Gamzatti variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02LF3T9pJm4)
> 
> [Black Swan coda](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mxgj4iMQLhU)


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Katniss can’t find the energy to have a conversation with the girls from One and Two, who are gossiping next to her normal spot, so she heads for an empty barre. Two looks a little offended.

As she braids her hair over her shoulder and pins it up into a bun, she sees the girl from Eleven approaching cautiously, like she’s nervous about taking the space next to Katniss. Katniss moves her bag in invitation, and the girl visibly brightens.

“It’s Rue, right?” she says, having heard Plutarch, who teaches most of the group classes, correct her during one of the jump passes a few days previously. The girl nods shyly. “I’m Katniss.”

“Oh, I know,” Rue replies, the shyness immediately gone. “My coach won’t stop going on about you and the boy from your district, she can’t believe you’re not dancing alone. She says she wishes I was older so I could partner Thresh.” The boy from Rue’s district is a giant, in complete contrast to Rue’s slight frame.

Katniss knows she and Peeta are an anomaly, but she hadn’t realized the fact that they will be dancing together was public knowledge. She doesn’t know what any of the other tributes will be performing, and tells Rue so.

“My district got _Don Q_ , so I’m doing Cupid, and Thresh is doing the grand pas variation,” Rue tells her, and Katniss can just imagine Rue, holding her perfect balances and smiling out at the audience.

Rue ends up being a fount of information, and by the time class starts, Katniss not only knows most of the variations selected by the tributes (the girl from Two is doing First Shade rather than Gamzatti), but also why no partners have ever won (Snow threw out his shoulder lifting a Giselle and was forced into an early retirement as ballet master, “and he’s spiteful,” Rue explains), and all about Rue’s costume (“I get to wear a wig!”).

Katniss still hasn’t seen her finished tutu, she’s only had a few fittings and knows that it will be some shade of red, but Cinna has promised something spectacular.

Katniss and Rue end up in most of the same groups during center, and Rue waves excitedly to Katniss as they separate after class. At the very least, she’s made a friend, Katniss thinks. Not to mention all the inside information she now has. What she can do with it, Katniss isn’t sure, but she feels like at least now she's prepared for the fight.

* * *

Katniss has been instructed by Cinna to head to her room after class, so she’s not surprised to find him unloading a small mountain of makeup products onto her bed when she enters. “I’ll be doing this today,” Cinna explains, “but it’ll be all you for the competition.” Katniss makes a face.

“I’m not great at stage makeup. Or, makeup at all,” she explains.

Cinna arches his eyebrow primly. “You’ll have to get used to doing it once you win this competition, you know.”

After a quick shower, she finds herself seated in a chair while Cinna paints on her bird face. It’s all shades of red and winged arches, and Katniss can only just see her own face underneath.

Portia knocks on the door as Cinna is pinning Katniss' headpiece on, and enters bearing a flat black fabric bag which must contain her tutu. Seeing Katniss eyeing the bag, Portia grins knowingly.

“Ready, Katniss?” Portia asks. “I’ll let Cinna do the honors.”

Cinna pulls the tutu from the bag as Katniss stands. It’s breathtaking. Layers of red and orange tulle make up the bottom, the colors flowing up the bodice, and it manages to convey both flames and feathers. Katniss is stunned.

“It’s perfect. Cinna. It’s perfect,” she manages to say. He laughs at her reaction.

“You know he designed it,” Portia whispers to her.

Katniss doesn’t do this normally, but after working with him, Cinna feels closer than almost anyone, so she hugs him gratefully.

After Katniss has stepped into the tutu, and Portia has hooked her up, Katniss and Cinna head to the studio where a backdrop and some lights have been dragged in, while Portia goes to check on Peeta.

Cinna has Katniss run through her solo from the beginning of the pas, checking the way the tutu moves with her. When a man carrying a large bag (presumably filled with photography equipment) enters the studio, Cinna runs over to greet him.

“Why are the female roles always birds?” Katniss wonders aloud to no one in particular. “Odette, Firebird, Swanilda . . .”

“I’m pretty sure that last one is actually a human woman,” Peeta says, walking up behind her.

She turns, beginning to roll her eyes, then realizes what he’s wearing. He looks like he’s wearing red Russian pajamas complete with a funny little hat. And yet, somehow, he looks regal.

“Who does pretend to be a doll at one point, so I’m not sure what my argument is. You look nice,” he continues, admiring the flame licked tutu.

Katniss flushes. “Thanks. You too.”

Peeta grins. “I don’t know what the Russians were thinking when they dressed their royalty, but I have to say, they could do better than this.”

He waves a bow and a quiver of arrows at her that she hadn’t noticed before now. “Also, look what they gave me. I think they’d probably be better off in your hands than mine, though.”

Katniss scoffs.

“Yeah, that’ll put a twist on things. The bird shooting the man with an arrow. We’ll win for sure.”

“Well, maybe not we, but you will. At least you have something to do for this. I have a little to do in the beginning, but after that I just walk around and pretend to want to capture you. Pick you up from time to time. Not sure if that makes for compelling photography," he shrugs.

Things are definitely tilted in her favor in their pas de deux. Katniss knows this. And Peeta doesn’t seem to begrudge her anything. But she feels like she needs to say something anyway. “It’s a pas. We’re a team. We’re here together. If we win, we both win. And I couldn’t do any of this without you. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

She stops, she’s said too much, last night has her speaking truths where they aren’t needed, but Peeta just looks confused at her words. His mouth opens to say something, but Mr. A and Madame T enter at that moment, and they’re caught up in praise and criticism over how they look in their costumes. Madame fusses over the fit of Katniss’ tutu, while Mr. A frowns.

"It's too red."

"Haymitch, they're going to be on a black stage, the red will stand out. And it's _The Firebird_ , not _The Waterbird_." Madame Trinket titters at her own joke.

Mr. A circles Katniss and Peeta, squinting at them. He calls Cinna and Portia over, and there's a twenty-minute conversation about, of all things, Peeta's hat. They eventually come to a consensus that the hat looks ridiculous, and Peeta can't keep the relief from showing on his face as he pulls it off.

After all present have approved their costumes, Cinna calls the photographer over. He introduces himself as Claudius as he shakes their hands, doing a funny little bow as he does so, a strange Capitol version of a reverence.

“A pleasure! So wonderful to meet you both, and so happy to hear we’ll be shooting you two together. The last district, there was no way I could put them both in the same frame. Shall we get started?”

Without waiting for an answer, he pulls them both in front of the backdrop and begins shooting photographs. The first few are silly, Peeta pretending to shoot Katniss with the bow while she pretends to look terrified. Mr. A is laughing, and even Katniss can tell Claudius is disappointed. Cinna puts a stop to this quickly.

“Why don’t you two just run through it? See if we can get something while you’re actually dancing. You need to run it with the costumes, anyway.”

Peeta agrees readily, and drops the arrows to the side. Madame T signals the pianist.

Katniss watches as Peeta turns and jumps his way through his solo, and then she makes her entrance. She’s alone at first, jumping, and Claudius looks thrilled as he catches her mid flight. The adults stand out of the way, occasionally glancing at a laptop open on the top of the piano, which shows every photograph Claudius is taking.

By the time Peeta joins her, she’s forgotten this is a photoshoot. She just dances. She pulls away from Peeta, terrified, she beats her arms like the bird she’s supposed to be. It’s halfway through the pas de deux, when she’s winning Ivan over, that Claudius snaps something and she can see Cinna’s eyes widen. She holds the arabesque for a second longer, Peeta’s hand supporting her, then pulling her back, and she continues on. The rest of the pas passes quickly, but nothing seems to get a reaction out of Cinna like that one shot did.

When they finish, they step apart, shaking out their legs and stretching their arms. That was good. Great, even. “Costumes are tough, but I think we managed, yeah?” Peeta says, a little short of breath. Katniss gives him a thumbs up, rather than speak.

Cinna calls over to them, “That was great, you two! Let’s do that again.”

Katniss and Peeta go through the pas three more times, with Claudius focusing on one or both of them during each runthrough. After that, sweat is starting to soak both their costumes and Cinna says they have what they need.

“Can we see?” asks Katniss, as she comes over to the piano.

“Definitely not,” says Claudius, snapping the laptop shut. “You’ll just have to wait until the gala and you see the programs. Or wherever else they need some advertising.” Cinna thanks him profusely as he leaves, and then they’re back to dancing.

Portia has a few corrections to make now that they have to contend with Peeta’s costume and the full tutu, which they spend the rest of the afternoon fixing. Cinna takes charge of her costume after rehearsal, and promises to have it perfectly fit by the Prix.

* * *

When Katniss enters the studio that evening, she finds Peeta lying flat on his back, listening to Prokofiev. “Rehearsal wasn’t that rough, was it? Do you really need to be listening to this?” she calls to him over the music.

Peeta lifts his head from the floor so he can meet her eyes. “Says the girl not wearing red pajamas.”

Katniss snorts.

“I can turn it off, I was just listening. Trying to remember the choreography for this part,” Peeta says, laying his head back down.

“You know it? The entire pas?” Katniss asks. It’s notoriously difficult, and Katniss only knows a few sections.

“No, of course not, just bits and pieces,” Peeta says, as he stands and flips off the music.

“What did you want to work on?” Katniss asks as she pulls on her second pair of shoes for the day, the first pair being too soft to wear again.

They decide to just run the piece over and over, knowing that soon they’ll only have one chance to perform it, and that one chance will determine the rest of their lives. Even if they don’t win the Grand Prix, if they do well, companies will be aware of them, improving their chances of finding a place in the corps somewhere.

After an hour of this, Katniss begs for a break, rolling her calf on a tennis ball and taking the opportunity to explain all she learned from Rue to Peeta.

“So all we have to do is convince the most spiteful man in the world to overcome his tragic past and give us a chance?” Peeta says skeptically.

“I was thinking we win over the other two judges and they outvote him.”

Peeta considers this. “Sounds like a plan. What do we know about them?”

Katniss frowns. “Absolutely nothing other than one of them has terrible taste in facial hair.”

“That’s not true,” Peeta protests. “The female judge is always staring at you during class.”

“Yeah, with the biggest stinkface I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t like me. She’s always smiling when she looks at you, though,” Katniss says.

Peeta considers this, and is forced to agree. “So I seduce the female judge, and you take terrible beard? Or should we do it together, like you said? We are a team.”

Katniss smacks him.

Peeta laughs and scoots out of arm’s reach, lying back on the floor. They sit in silence for a few minutes, a quiet, companionable sort of thing. Katniss is reminded of their silence on the train. She smiles a little to herself, thinking at how far they’ve come since then. Between them, they have a chance of winning this thing.

“Why did you say that before? About how you wouldn’t be here without me?” Peeta says quietly, staring at the ceiling.

Katniss stops breathing. She waits a minute before replying, looking at her feet in her shoes, playing with the end of a ribbon that’s come untucked.

“Because it’s true.”

“But it’s not, Katniss. You belong here. Nothing could have kept you away.” Peeta’s sitting up now, staring at her, an imploring look in his eyes.

“You gave me your audition number, Peeta. You lost a year at the academy. I took that from you. You’re the only reason I’m here.” Katniss is surprised at how steady her voice is. She’s tried for years to say this to him, but she’d never had the courage.

She had been late, the day of the audition. Her mother had been having one of her bad days, and no amount of prodding could get her out of bed. Katniss had finally set off on her own, walking the miles and miles to the academy, finding the line for auditions stretched around the building. Just before the audition started, they stopped handing out numbers, and Katniss was the first one they turned away.

She found herself standing in a corner, not knowing how she’d gotten there. She slid down the wall, numb. She had trained for months, she was ready, she was going to get in for Prim. And now she couldn’t even audition.

And then someone was grabbing her, pinning a number to her front, and pushing her toward the studio. A blond-haired, blue-eyed someone she recognized from the month of classes he’d taken at the Hawthorne’s school before he’d moved on to another studio. And then he was walking away, giving her a hopeful smile.

She didn’t even have a chance to get nervous. Before she knew it the audition was over. More than two-thirds of the students had been cut as the audition had gone on. But she was still there. And when they offered her a place in the academy, she accepted without thinking.

Only after she’d returned home, did she have a chance to puzzle out what had happened in her mind. This boy, whose name she’d never even learned, had given her his number. But why would he do that for her?

She didn’t see him again until a year later, when he’d suddenly appeared in the Grade 2 classes. He’d given her the same hopeful smile he had the day he’d saved her. And flustered, she had avoided his gaze. And for years, she had kept on avoiding it. Until the Prix. Until this moment.

“But we’re both here now. And I can finally repay you, for what you did for me. I can win, we can win this,” Katniss continues. She’s speaking too loudly, too quickly, but years of build-up means her emotions are running wild.

Peeta looks almost angry as he replies, “I didn’t do that for you to repay me, Katniss.”

“Then why did you?” She’s wondered this for years.

“Because I saw them turn you away. And it wasn’t fair. You belonged there, much more than me. I’d seen you dance. Even then, you were beyond description. No one could take their eyes off you. And I made it eventually. Like you said, we’re both here now.” Peeta’s mouth is set, stubbornly.

Katniss wants to protest, wants to make Peeta accept her gratitude, but he’s standing and turning on the music, stopping her before she can speak, gesturing to her expectantly. She stands, resigned, and steps into an arabesque, Peeta’s hands holding her in place.

She looks back at him, and sees the pleading look he can’t keep off his face. He wants her to stop pushing this, but she can't. Not until he understands what he did for her.

She stops dancing, and turns to face him, dropping out of her arabesque.

"Peeta, you have to understand—"

"I don't though, Katniss. I don't have to do anything. I don't regret it at all. It was the right thing to do, helping you then. And I'm glad I did, even now."

"That's just it though. I'm not a person who can ask for help. I wasn't then, I'm not now. But you helped me anyway. And I'll never be able to stop owing you. But I thought maybe, just maybe if we win this thing, it can make up for it, just a little."

"And I'm saying you don't need to do that. Not ever. But if it makes you feel better, then okay. We can win this together, and we'll be even."

"It does. It will."

She looks into his eyes, and nods. He nods back at her. This is her way of saying thank you. This is his way of accepting it.

His hands are still resting on her waist.

She gives him a small smile, and then she’s doing a quick glissade, and he’s lifting her up.

It’s late by the time they decide to call it a night. Peeta steals Katniss’ tennis ball to roll out his shoulder, and Katniss, not wanting to chance their first awkward silence after the intensity of earlier, puts on the music Peeta had been listening to when she walked in.

“You remember the choreography yet, Mellark?” she asks, with a raised eyebrow.

“Is that a challenge, Everdeen?” he laughs, but he gets to his feet. And then he’s turning, jumping, showing off for her. She applauds as he stops, admitting that’s basically all he knows. “I’ve tried the kneeling lift with Delly, but it didn’t really work.” Katniss feels a sudden urge to succeed where this girl, Peeta’s partner back at school, hasn’t.

“Well, now we have to try it,” she says, coming to meet him in the center, pushing on his shoulders until he kneels in front of her.

It takes more than a few tries, and the music is still playing in the background, but eventually they get it, his arms supporting her hips as she supports herself on his shoulder with her left arm. Katniss drops her right arm once, and laughs giddily. She should have known they could do it. After tonight, it feels like they can do anything.

Katniss realizes suddenly where they are in the music, and drops out of the lift. “Wait! I know this part!” She’d learned it with Madge last year, in the hopes of convincing Madame T to let one of them perform it with their partner in the end of year performance. This was before they realized how devastatingly hard this pas de deux is. But she does know this part.

Katniss moves in a circle around Peeta, quick soutenus and attitudes, coming back to hold onto him as she kicks into a deep arabesque. “And then I would fall here, which I am not going to do because as much as I trust you to catch me, that’s not happening right now.” Peeta raises his eyebrows, surprised at this suddenly exuberant girl standing in front of him.

“And then,” she’s thinking out loud, “wait, wait, we can do this! It’s one of those overhead back attitude lifts, we do it in _Firebird_ , let’s try!”

Katniss feels free right now, unburdened, her confession heard and acknowledged. Peeta stands and lifts her up, and spins her at her instruction. As he places her carefully on the floor, she calls out, “And another one, over here.”

They do the lift again, Katniss bringing her leg around to the front this time, and it feels good, knowing that Peeta will be there, trusting in him to keep her up, to set her down gently.

She’s caught up in the music, she’s moving ahead without thinking, and she’s laughing, and the music is slowing, and Peeta’s grabbing her hand. She’s turning to him, a grin on her face when she suddenly remembers what comes next.

Because this is the balcony scene pas de deux, and it ends with a kiss.

She stops moving, the smile sliding off her face, and Peeta must have come to the same realization, because he rolls his eyes a little, smiling and shaking his head at her expression, and pulls his hand from hers.

But Katniss doesn’t let him.

She’s gripping his hand tightly, stopping him. And she’s stepping toward him and he isn’t moving, and the music is building, and she’s up on her pointes and then she’s kissing him, his mouth warm beneath hers, and he’s kissing her back. His hands come up to rest on her shoulder blades, and one of her arms is extended out behind her like a wing, and they're pressed against each other, and she can't seem to stop kissing him.

Forever, or maybe only a second later, Katniss pulls away, searching Peeta’s face. He looks stunned, and hopeful, and joyful all at once. She thinks the same expressions are mirrored on her own face, but she doesn’t know, and she doesn’t know what to think, and so she does the only thing she can do, which is flee.

She’s running, because that’s how it ends, Juliet runs, back to her balcony and Katniss is running too, leaving everything behind, pulling open the door and looking back at Peeta, standing there alone in the center of the studio. She tries to speak, to say something to him, but she can’t even begin to find the words for what she’s feeling, she's used them all up. So she runs, the music the only thing following her down the hallway, and she wonders if she just ruined everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Cupid variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oN0A9RRmYo)
> 
> [_Don Quixote_ Grand Pas variation](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHLjVBq_zm0&t=5m10s)
> 
> [First Shade variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5K0QtryM8Mg)
> 
> [_Giselle_ lift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdGmUqBkBLc)
> 
> [Balcony scene pas de deux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a04IcHI1fFQ)


	4. Chapter 4

Katniss slams the door to her room behind her, her heart pounding. Sliding down the door, she sits, legs splayed, head in her hands.

What has she done? She wants to blame the dancing. To blame Prokofiev, and MacMillan, and Shakespeare, but she knows that the only person behind that kiss was her. Their relationship had realigned, and she had lost her inhibitions completely.

Or maybe it was just the music.

Before she has a chance to agonize any further, she hears a soft knock on the door behind her. “Katniss?” Peeta’s voice is muffled, but she can hear the confusion in it.

Of course he’s confused. She kissed him and ran away.

She sits very still, and hears a muffled thump as something hits the door gently, and then footsteps retreating. Kneeling, she pulls the door open to find her dance bag, her tennis ball perched precariously on top. Pulling it into the room, she kicks the door shut as she falls back onto the floor.

Peeta doesn’t deserve this. He’s too good to have her inflicted on him. Doesn’t deserve her avoidance, something she had just apologized for less than half an hour ago. He’s genuinely a good person. Part of the reason why he’s snuck into her heart.

She resolves to find him before class tomorrow, set things straight. Explain that she was just caught up in the moment, that she was just following the choreography, the flimsiest argument she can think of, but also the only one that doesn’t go into territory she’s not comfortable talking about.

Because if she’s being honest with herself, as uncomfortable as that is, it had felt good, to allow herself that moment, to give herself the chance to have what she wanted. And searching deep, she finds she doesn’t regret it. It had felt right, somehow. Like an inevitability. They’d worked so well together, they’d found a trust between themselves, and this was just what came next.

But this is something that cannot happen, not now. They have to be perfect. And emotions are messy. And this is ballet. And she has just promised to win the entire Prix for him. She can’t allow whatever feelings she may or may not have to get in the way.

And it’s probably just a side effect of their dancing together so frequently, she reasons. It’s not real. It’ll go away once the competition is over. She has to believe this. She has the Prix to focus on. And then her career, if she makes it through the competition, after that. And Prim. There just isn’t time for anything else.

* * *

Katniss suffers through a fitful night’s sleep, but wakes up early enough to stop by Peeta’s room before class.

But when she knocks on his door, he’s either not there or ignoring her, which she can’t blame him for, really. She stands outside for a few minutes, not sure what to do. Eventually she gives up and heads to class.

Peeta isn’t in the studio, and he doesn’t show up until just before class starts, studiously avoiding Katniss’ eyes as he walks in and finds a place at the barre across the room from her. She knows she doesn’t have the right to be hurt by this, but it still stings.

She tries meeting his eye when they turn around at barre, and clustering so they’ll be in the same groups during center, but he’s stubborn and won’t break. By the time class ends and they head to rehearsal, Peeta has ignored every single one of Katniss’ overtures and she’s officially annoyed.

Peeta can’t completely avoid her here, he still has to partner her, but their dancing is tight and emotionless. Cinna and Portia work for over an hour trying to get them to loosen up, and even Madame T ventures forth a comment. “Perhaps you could try moving with the music more?” It’s a completely unhelpful correction, and forgetting where they stand, Katniss comes over to laugh at it silently with Peeta. His expression is unreadable, but he quickly turns away, pretending to stretch out his hamstring, and Katniss seethes.

Mr. A walks in halfway through the rehearsal, as Cinna is pulling on Katniss’ arm, showing her the flow he wants as she flutters it up and down. He indicates wordlessly that they should show him their progress, and Katniss hopes they can hold it together long enough to impress him.

It may be the worst runthrough yet. At one point, Peeta’s arm is lacking the tension Katniss needs to balance, and she falls out of her arabesque. As they continue, Katniss can see Mr. A’s face grow stormier, until he claps and stops the music. He stares between her and Peeta, measuring them both up, until he stops and points at Katniss.

“You. Outside. Now.”

Katniss exits the studio meekly.

“What. The hell. Happened.” It seems Mr. A turns into a one-word sentence kind of person when he’s angry. Katniss tries to play the innocent card.

“What are you talking about?”

Mr. A shoots her a look. “I’m not some idiot, sweetheart. My entire life is watching sweaty teenagers run their hands all over each other, something I very much do not enjoy, to be clear. You two were perfect amounts of pining without it being a distraction, and now you can’t look at each other.”

“Nothing happened?” Katniss tries hard not to make it a question.

Mr. A starts pacing in front of Katniss, then stops and glares at her. “You tell me right now, or your sister doesn’t get a single solo until Grade 7.” Katniss would be impressed at his ability to hit her where it hurts if the threat wasn’t so dire.

“We, um, were just doing something different after rehearsing, and we were listening to the balcony scene . . .” Katniss trails off. She can’t talk about this.

Mr. A seems to understand exactly what transpired though, and groans.

“Well, that’s just great. The judges watch you rehearse _tomorrow_ and you pick this moment to consummate your relationship.”

Katniss makes a noise of protest.

Mr. A puts his hand up. “Don’t give me details, I don’t want to know. All I know is you two have lost whatever magic you had before this, and you need to get it back. Right now. Because if you don’t impress the judges tomorrow, they will completely write you off during the actual competition, and your chances of winning will be zero.”

Katniss’ stomach drops. Mr. A sees the expression on her face and nods knowingly.

“Didn’t think about that, did you, when you decided to jump the boy?”

“How do you know I was—”

Mr. A stops her. “Oh believe me, if he was the instigator, he’d be the one out here with me. But it’s written all over your faces what happened. The boy wears his heart on his sleeve and I can see it bleeding. Now, I don’t care if you love him or can’t stand him, you two are fixing this. Lie to him if you have to. But fix it. Now.”

He yanks open the door, and barks out Peeta’s name, who trots out, looking wary. When he sees Katniss standing next to Mr. A, he slows and seems to take forever to reach them.

Mr. A lets the door close, and then points at Katniss and Peeta in turn. “Fix this,” he growls, and then storms away.

Katniss and Peeta stand in silence.

Katniss knows it’s on her to apologize, to explain her actions, but she’s still angry over Peeta’s avoidance of her all day, so she just stares at him sullenly. He’s watching the floor.

Finally, she gives in. “Peeta.”

“Yeah, Katniss?” She didn’t even realize Peeta could be this sarcastic. He’s still not looking at her.

“Look Peeta, I’m sorry, okay? I freaked out. I ran. I do that. I run away from my problems.”

“Glad to hear I’m a problem.”

Katniss sighs. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. It’s just, I tried to find you this morning, and you’ve been ignoring me all day.” His shoulders are hunched up around his ears, and she feels like his entire body is focused on repelling her and the words she’s saying.

“It was just, I got caught up in the music, and we were dancing so well, and,” she steels herself. _Lie to him_ , Mr. A had said. It’s not a lie, but the truth is too complicated to explain just now. “You were there, being you, and I just really . . . wanted to do . . . that.”

She’s sure her fumbling attempts at an explanation won’t help at all, but she can see his shoulders lower slightly.

“I panicked, okay? I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ran.”

Peeta finally looks at her. He’s still guarded, she can tell, but it’s a start.

“I can see how kissing me would make you panic.” The joke barely lands, but she lets out a laugh anyway, mostly of relief.

“And I’m sorry too, for hiding in my bathroom when you knocked on my door this morning.”

“You were in the bathroom?” Katniss hits him in the chest. “You ass! I was going to pour out my heart and soul to you!”

“Were you?” Peeta looks intrigued.

“I _was_. Now I’m not so sure.” Banter, yes. Banter is good.

Peeta purses his lips, looking thoughtful. “I guess I deserve that. Look, Katniss -”

She interrupts him. “Not now, okay? Later. Tonight. But we’re good, right?” At the very least, better than they were.

Peeta nods. “We’re okay. But, yeah. Later.”

They walk back into the room together, and Cinna and Portia don’t bother to hide their looks of relief. The rest of the rehearsal is still extremely awkward, with emotions leaking out instead of being repressed, but they’re able to dance.

The competition is so close the corrections come down to minutiae, the curve of Katniss’ fingers as she jumps, or the placement of Peeta’s left foot as he turns her.

Cinna eventually sighs and says, “I don’t think there’s any more we can do, at least not before tomorrow.” Katniss blanches. Is there something glaring that’s just too big to fix? Cinna sees her and moves to reassure her quickly. “You two are wonderful. And you are going to blow the judges away tomorrow.”

“What are they like, anything we should know? I don’t even know their names, aside from Snow,” Peeta says.

Portia thinks for a moment before replying. “Well, Seneca—Seneca Crane, I know him well. He was a soloist with CBC and then started his own company in the Capitol, a small thing, just twenty dancers. He likes things flashy, big, which is a plus for you two. The other judge is new this year, Alma Coin, and she’s been working out of the country for years. She’s the wild card, no one knows anything about her.”

“Just perform as well as you have been. Or better. And don’t drop Katniss too quickly out of your lifts. And watch your arms, Katniss.” Portia cuts Cinna off before he can list every correction they made over the course of the rehearsal.

“Go. Get some rest. Tomorrow won’t be officially judged, but you’ll need to wow them. Make a good impression.” Cinna shoos them out the door, and Peeta and Katniss are left standing in the hallway outside the studio. They’re not comfortable with each other yet, and Katniss tamps down the urge to flee again.

“I’m gonna, uh, shower, and grab something to eat, but we’re still going to, um, rehearse later. Right?” Katniss shifts from foot to foot.

Peeta’s meeting her eyes again, but she can tell he’s still unsure where they stand. “Yeah. I’ll see you later, Katniss.” Katniss watches him walk away, and is still standing there when Cinna and Portia exit the studio.

Cinna sees Katniss’ face, and tells Portia he’ll catch up with her later. Pulling her back into the studio, he pulls out the piano bench and sits her down. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Katniss holds back for less than a second, before it all comes pouring out. Not just the kiss with Peeta, but how they’d finally talked about their history, her worry about Prim, her fear of not impressing the judges, even her concerns about being forced to leave the school if they fail. When she’s finally done, she looks up at Cinna, who’s watching her sympathetically.

He sits down next to her, and gives her a smile. “Sometimes I forget you two are just teenagers. You’ve handled everything we’ve thrown at you remarkably well. We didn’t rehearse this intensely when I was in the company. And I wouldn't worry about failing, I’ve heard some horror stories from the other coaches. You both aren't in any danger, unlike some of the other tributes.”

Katniss perks up. “Like who?”

Cinna puts his finger to his lips. “I didn’t say anything. But I hear the boy from 10 can’t quite hack Siegfried.” Katniss tucks that bit of information away for later.

“And as for you and Peeta,” Cinna continues, “well, let me just say that I’ve watched you both for two weeks now. And I couldn’t have asked for a better matched pair. I know you didn’t expect to be here, much less dancing a pas. But watching you dance together, it’s special. There are some partnerships that don’t work, there’s no trust, or there’s a difference in technique or style that just makes for a dissonance that can’t be overcome. That isn’t you two. You two . . . fit.”

Katniss shrugs, “Yeah, until I ruined everything.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Cinna smiles, and stands. “You’ll work it out. I believe in that.”

He leaves her sitting there on the piano bench, feeling perhaps a little lighter than she did before.

* * *

Katniss gets to the studio almost absurdly early, and sets about warming up. She purposefully leaves the music off.

She’s doing Italian fouettés in the center when Peeta pushes open the door, and the noise causes her to fall as she hits her attitude. “Oh, sorry,” he calls to her. “Those looked good. Until I screwed you up.” Katniss finds his forced normalcy kind of endearing.

She waits until he’s seated, pulling out his shoes, before she comes over to him.

“So.”

“So.”

She takes a deep breath, but Peeta beats her to the punch. “You don’t need to say anything, Katniss. We were caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have expected anything from you. We were just dancing. That’s all. There’s nothing to talk to about.”

She’s surprised. He’s giving her an out. The one she’d resolved to take herself. She can tell he’s lying, her mind flashing back to the look of hope on his face as she’d broken their kiss. He doesn’t believe what he’s saying.

But he’s sacrificing the truth to save them, to save their chances at winning. Something’s changed since their conversation in the hallway, someone’s convinced him this is the course he needs to take.

Some part of her feels it isn’t fair, not to Peeta, not to herself. Their partnership has been based on trust, thus far. It would cheapen it to not be honest with him.

But the only thing she’s more frightened of than losing Peeta is admitting her feelings. So she lies too.

“Right. Just dancing. Just following the choreography.” They smile at each other, sealing their mutual deceptions.

It’s for the greater good, she tells herself. They can’t be avoiding each other, not now. And when they dance, she can’t tell anything ever changed between them, even if just for a few hours. But when they decide there’s no more they can do for the night, they cool down in silence. And they leave the studio in silence. And Katniss wishes she could take it all back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Siegfried variation](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtEQ-BnNNl8&t=6m25s)
> 
>  
> 
> [Italian fouettés](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtrgKD6bg8g&nohtml5=False)
> 
>  
> 
> Not that much ballet in this one, sorry! (That may be a good or bad thing, depending.)


	5. Chapter 5

When Katniss leaves her room the next morning, she finds Peeta waiting for her outside her door, holding, of all things, a banana. “I thought we could walk to class together. Banana?” She’s a little wary, unsure of his motives. They’re back to friendship, if that’s what their relationship could have been called before this. But there was something deeper, something that Katniss isn’t sure they’ve reclaimed just yet.

She accepts the banana, though. “Worried about me cramping up?” she asks, peeling it and breaking off a piece. Peeta shrugs. “Just want to make sure we’re prepared in every way.” Katniss mumbles out her agreement.

As they arrive at the studio, the boy from Two is just pulling open the door. He acknowledges Katniss with a nod, but he glares at Peeta, walking in the opposite direction from them to a mostly full barre.

Katniss turns to Peeta, confused. “What was that about?”

Peeta shakes his head. “I have no idea. I guess we’re all remembering that only one person can win this competition.”

“Or two,” Katniss reminds him, gesturing back and forth between them, setting her bag down against the wall.

“Right. Or two,” he agrees. “So, are you ready for the stage?”

Katniss stares at him. “The stage?”

“Yeah, the rehearsal today, it’s not in the studio, it’s on the stage.”

“Since when?” Katniss asks desperately.

Peeta looks at her, confused. “Since always, Cinna reminded us yesterday, plus Portia told us on the train.”

“Well, I clearly had other things to focus on yesterday! And, and, well, I wasn’t listening to Portia on the train,” she finishes lamely. Rue’s placing her bag down next to Peeta, and Katniss runs over to her. “Rue! Did you know the rehearsals today are on the stage?” Rue nods at her, clearly amused at Katniss’ panic.

“It’ll be fine, Katniss, it’s the same thing, just without a mirror. It’s not dress, we won’t be in costume,” Peeta says, trying to reassure her.

“I’m excited!” Rue pipes up behind him. Katniss groans, and falls onto the floor, pretending to stretch as a cover to hide her nerves.

Plutarch walks in as she’s pulling on her flat shoes, and calls them all to attention.

“As you will all be going to the stage today, we’ll need to make sure class ends on time. We’ll start in first, two demi pliés, one grande plié, port de bras front, and back. Second, same, and port de bras to the barre, and away, two demi pliés fourth front, rond de jambe to the back, two more demi pliés, rond de jambe to the front, circular port de bras to the barre, fifth, two demi pliés, one grande, and a circular port de bras the other way.” He nods to the pianist, and class begins.

Barre is over before Katniss knows it, Plutarch’s quick teaching style not leaving much time for rest in between combinations. Katniss switches to pointe shoes for center, and heads to get some rosin.

As she screws her foot into the box, she sees the boy from Two glaring at Peeta again. She sees Clove, the girl from his district, waiting behind her and Katniss motions her over. “What’s the deal with your boy? He keeps on giving Peeta the stinkeye.”

Clove rolls her eyes. “Cato’s such a drama queen. He wouldn’t stop bitching about it during dinner, he kept saying Twelve was crowding him during center yesterday.” Katniss raises her eyebrows as she steps out of the box.

“I’ll tell Peeta to watch his back,” she says flippantly.

Clove gives her a serious look. “I might if I were you, Cato’s been in a dangerous mood. His coach isn’t happy with him. He’s doing Solor and his jumps aren’t cutting it.” Katniss’ eyes widen. “But don’t tell anyone,” Clove says, looking around conspiratorially to make sure no one else has overheard. Katniss mimes zipping her lips, resolving to tell Peeta during rehearsal.

They’re in the middle of big jumps when it happens. Katniss is leaning over, fixing the heel on her shoe, when Rue grabs her arm. She hears the intake of breaths all around her, the piano stops playing, and she knows something is wrong, something has happened.

Peeta is lying on the floor, holding his left knee.

She doesn’t even realize she’s running to him until she’s kneeling by his side. His face is screwed up in pain, and she’s looking around for someone, something, anything that could help him. Her hands flit uselessly over his. Plutarch’s walking over, asking Peeta if he’s okay, and she can see Peeta’s face instantly clear, not allowing their fellow tributes see him hurting. He grits his teeth, and assures Plutarch that he’s fine.

Katniss takes her cue from Peeta, composing herself, calmly asking, “Shouldn’t he get it checked? Just to be safe?” Meanwhile, inside, she’s frantic. What happened? Is Peeta okay? How bad is it?

“Yes, perhaps you should get checked out. Can you get to the doctor under your own power?” Plutarch asks Peeta, who’s getting to his feet with the help of the boy from Eight.

Peeta nods, gives Katniss a reassuring look, and limps out of the room. Katniss catches a glimpse of Cato smirking out of the corner of her eye, and her blood runs cold. He had something to do with this, she knows it.

Katniss finishes class on auto-pilot, not thinking about anything other than Peeta, enduring looks of pity from the rest of the tributes. Only a few seem sincere.

After Plutarch leads them through an abbreviated reverence, Katniss snatches up both her bag and Peeta’s, and walks quickly out of the room. A few people offer words of sympathy as she leaves, but they ring hollow, and Katniss ignores them. She has one goal right now, and it’s getting to Peeta.

But Cinna intercepts her in the hallway. “Portia’s with him now, they’re checking him out. We don’t know anything yet.”

Katniss feels sick. “Cinna, he has to be okay. I can’t . . .” she trails off.

She obviously cannot dance a pas de deux without Peeta, this is a simple fact. But it’s more than that, she realizes. She cannot do this with without him. Not just as a partner, for someone to balance her. She needs him, his steady presence. Just the thought of him not being onstage with her is too daunting to imagine.

Cinna must read her thoughts on her face, because he pulls Katniss into a hug, then hustles her away from the tributes exiting the studio.

“We’re going to have to leave for the stage soon, with or without Peeta. You’re lucky Twelve goes last, that should buy us some time,” Cinna says as they arrive at Katniss’ room. “Grab your practice tutu and anything else you’ll need, and I’ll see if Effie or Haymitch have any news.”

Katniss looks around her room helplessly, picking up discarded leg warmers and a down vest, before she sees her tennis ball, which has rolled into a corner. She picks it up, remembering how Peeta had placed it so carefully outside her door when he returned it to her the other night. She places it tenderly in his bag, which she hasn’t let go of.

Cinna knocks just as Katniss is opening her door, and before she can ask, he shakes his head. “Nothing yet. Haymitch is going to find out, he’ll let us know. Ready to go?” Katniss lifts her practice tutu as an answer.

In the car, Madame T chatters away, pointing out famous buildings to Katniss, who hasn’t seen anything in her time in the Capitol except for the inside of studios.

She’s halfway through an explanation of the architecture of the modern art gallery they’d just passed when she gasps. “Oh, Katniss, look! It’s a poster for the Prix!” Katniss had been staring at her knees, worrying, but this makes her sit up straight and look around wildly.

“What? Where?” Katniss asks, but then she sees it. Glimmer, the girl from One, is mid-développé on a poster on the side of the road. She’s wearing a white classical tutu completely covered in gems. “Looks like she’s doing _Diamonds_ ,” Cinna muses.

Katniss feels a little twinge of jealousy, knowing that Glimmer has an advantage now. The audience will know her, they’ll welcome her just a little more, now that she’s familiar to them. And even slightly more enthusiastic applause will have an effect on the judges. They pass two more posters on the way to the opera house, Thresh as Basilio, and Cato as Solor. Katniss notices they didn’t choose a shot of him jumping.

The car slows, and Katniss realizes they’ve arrived. “Oh and Katniss, you should pay close attention to the facade of the opera house, it was designed by -” Madame T’s words are lost in a noise of outrage. “What have they done?” Madame sounds distraught.

Katniss looks out the window and sees that the front of the building is obscured by scaffolding. Thankful to whoever put it up and got her out of a ten minute lecture, Katniss hops out of the car. “Well, I hope they get this taken down by tomorrow!” Madame T’s voice rings out even as Katniss walks quickly away from the scene she’s making.

Cinna catches up to her, guiding her to the stage door and down to one of the rehearsal rooms, where she finds most of the other tributes. “We’ll be in the audience, but I’ll let you know if I hear any news,” he promises, and then she’s on her own.

It’s a strange feeling, after being linked with Peeta the entire competition. If she wasn’t so nerve-wracked, she’d pity the other competitors, unable to rely on their district partner. Then again, right now, all she has to rely on is herself.

The rehearsal room is a buzz of activity, tributes walking in circles, muttering or humming to themselves and marking their variations. Katniss wonders what a stranger would see if they walked into the room right now. A bunch of crazy people, probably.

One by one, the tributes are called to the stage, eventually leaving Katniss alone with Rue and Thresh. No one has come to give Katniss any news. She’s resorted to untying and retying her shoe ribbons while she watches Rue hold her attitudes over and over. Thresh is practicing his cabrioles, which only makes Katniss think about Peeta even more.

Thresh is called, and it’s just Rue and Katniss left. Before Rue heads to the stage, she comes and takes Katniss’ hands in hers. “You won’t be alone out there. He’ll make it in time.” Katniss isn’t so sure, but she smiles gratefully at Rue.

And then Katniss is alone. She could practice the sections where she’s the only one on stage, but she doesn’t quite see the point. There’s no way of performing a pas de deux with only one person. _A pas de un_ , Katniss thinks, and then laughs out loud at her own joke. She must be going a little crazy. If only Peeta was here to talk her down.

Instead she just does piqué tours across the floor. Now that the room is empty except for her, she finally has the space. It’s calming, the repetition. She’s halfway through a series of lame ducks when someone opens the door and calls Peeta’s name.

“He was um, injured during class today,” Katniss manages to croak out.

The volunteer looks surprised, and then consults her list again. “Okay, then, Katniss Everdeen?”

Katniss can’t breathe. Peeta still isn’t here. She’s going out on that stage. Alone.

She swallows her panic, and follows the volunteer down a long hallway, and through a doorway. She finds herself backstage, swallowed up by the darkness, and walks toward the light spilling out from the stage.

She’s taking deep breaths in the wings, waiting for them to call her name, when she hears them call Peeta’s. She’s about to step out to correct them when Peeta appears from the opposite wing.

Katniss’ knees almost buckle in relief.

He’s here. He’s here and he’s barely limping and he’s smiling out at the judges as he takes his place center stage.

Katniss watches Peeta intently as he goes into his first turn, and he looks so strong, so striking onstage that she has to turn away to try and tamp down the emotions bubbling up inside her. Relief, joy, hope. It’s all too familiar.

She’s so overwhelmed that she almost misses her entrance, but then she’s running and leaping. The lights are blinding, but she’s prepared for this. Almost every moment of the past two weeks has been spent with this choreography, and her body takes over while her mind is racing to catch up.

And then she’s stepping into an arabesque, and Peeta’s holding her up. She’s meant to look terrified, but she can’t keep a quick smile from her face when she looks into his eyes. His only response is a whispered “Sorry,” as he turns her, and then they’re focused on dancing.

The pas goes well, or as well as can be expected, and Katniss is waiting for Peeta as he runs offstage. He stops just in front of her, breathing heavily. She doesn’t give him a chance to recover before she’s flinging herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. Peeta staggers back a little from the strength of her hug, and she releases him, remembering he’s injured. He’s smiling, though, so she thinks it can’t be too bad.

She’s about to apologize, and ask what happened, and maybe hug him some more, when she hears a booming voice coming from somewhere in the audience.

“I’d heard rumors, Haymitch, but I didn’t think you’d have the balls to do it.”

Katniss peers around the wing to see Mr. A striding up the aisle to the three judges sitting in the middle of the house. Peeta inches up behind her, leaning all his weight on his good leg, balancing himself with a hand on her shoulder.

“Please, tell me, Snow. What’s that about my balls?”

Katniss can just see the older man stand up from his seat in the dim light of the house, flanked on each side by the other judges. “I hope you don’t think what you just put up on that stage could win my competition. A pas de deux? And this year especially, when we celebrate the great ballets.” Snow’s words are dripping with condescension.

Mr. A throws his hands up in the air. “A good pas de deux _makes_ a great ballet! Why don’t you explain to me how my district was assigned the one ballet with not a single variation to be found? You forced my hand, Snow.” He starts to walk away, but turns around, furious. “And yes, I do think what you just saw can win your competition. And so do your fellow judges.”

Katniss turns her head and raises her eyebrows at Peeta, who’s listening to the shouting with wide eyes.

Snow shakes his head. “Temper, temper, Haymitch. It wouldn’t do for your students to see you like this. At least we are spared your rants and raves at the company these days.”

Mr. A walks purposefully back to the rest of their team, ignoring Snow’s barb. He makes eye contact with Katniss and makes a small gesture with his hand, shooing her back into the wings.

Katniss ducks back into the darkness, bumping Peeta, who hisses in pain. “Oh! Sorry, sorry,” Katniss whispers, stepping away from him and peering at his knee. Now that she’s right next to him, she can see it’s wrapped, and she clutches at him desperately. “Peeta, what happened? No one told me anything, please tell me you’re okay.”

“It’s just a sprain. Cato accidentally bumped into me during a tour jeté. They wrapped it up pretty tight, but I can dance on it. I mean, obviously,” Peeta says, starting to walk through the darkness.

"I don't think it was an accident," Katniss says darkly.

Peeta looks at her, surprised, but then he nods. "No, probably not," he agrees.

With no one watching them, Katniss sees his limp is more pronounced than it was onstage. “But I’ll be able to compete, I mean, I might need a cortisone shot, but nothing will keep me from that, I promise. They didn’t want me coming here but I made Portia bring me,” Peeta says lightly.

Katniss comes to an abrupt halt. “Peeta! You could have injured yourself even more!”

He laughs a little at her outrage. “I couldn’t leave you here on your own. You can’t lift yourself.”

She wants to tell him it’s not worth the risk, she’s not worth the risk, but she sees the determined look in his eyes and her protests die on her lips. Because they both want to win this, for so many reasons. And she knows she would do the same for him. She knows this.

So instead, she grasps his hand and says, “Thank you,” meaning it.

Peeta seems to understand how deeply grateful she is, and how much she doesn’t want him to make it a thing, because he just smiles at her and says, “Anytime.”

* * *

Katniss doesn’t expect to find Peeta in the studio that evening, but he’s already sitting, leaning against the mirror when she arrives. “What are you doing here? You should be icing!” she cries out as she strides toward him across the studio.

In response, Peeta lifts a large bag of ice she hadn’t noticed in her indignation. “I am, and I’m elevating, see?” He points at his knee, which rests on his bag.

“Well,” she thinks for a moment, “you’re the one who said I can’t lift myself. There’s no way I’m letting you get up, so don’t even try. You should be resting. Specifically, not here.”

“I thought I could coach you,” Peeta says in response.

Katniss can’t think of an argument against that, and he knows it. Plus, she's touched he wants to be here. With her. She huffs out a “Fine, if you want,” and sits to put her shoes on.

She’s stretching out her hamstring when Peeta starts rustling through his bag, and pulls out her tennis ball. “I found this in my bag, isn’t it yours?”

Katniss can’t stop herself from blushing. “Oh, um, I freaked out a little after I saw you on the floor. And I was trying to think of something I could do. So, um, I just I thought maybe, you might need it. I thought it might help, somehow. It’s dumb, I know.”

She glances at Peeta, who has a huge smile on his face. “What?” she asks, preparing to be offended.

“It’s nice. To know you care.” She does care, he knows this, but in the interest of keeping things light between them, she rolls her eyes at him.

“Yeah, well clearly you’re not injured enough to need it, since you’re here, so I’ll take that back.”

Peeta pulls it back out of her reach before she can snatch it from him. “No way, this is mine now. I’ll need something to remember you by when this is all over.”

Katniss falters at this. They only have a few days left until the competition, and after that, she won’t be partnering Peeta anymore. She’ll go back to Gale, and he’ll go back to Delly, and Peeta will just be some guy she used to dance with. The thought makes her sad, wistful somehow, for something that isn't even over yet.

Peeta looks concerned at her sudden silence, and tosses the ball at her. “I’m just kidding, if it means that much to you?” She throws it back at him with force, making him yelp in pain as he dodges it. “My gift to you, Peeta.” She curtsies. “May you think of me every time you use it.”

“There’s no doubt of that,” he says, looking at her thoughtfully.

After an hour of dancing, Katniss has to admit Peeta is a good, maybe great coach. Or maybe he just notices the little things about her. “You’re late there,” he’ll call to her, or “loosen up your hand in that jump.” She trusts Cinna above anything, but Peeta’s finding moments in the choreography that she hadn’t even considered.

Katniss can tell Peeta’s itching to be up and dancing, but he’s settling for marking out the choreography with his hands as she pretends he’s dancing with her. Which is why she starts when a pair of very solid hands settle on her waist. She looks back, actually terrified this time, to find Mr. A partnering her. She drops off her pointes and curtsies to him, to cover her shock.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t be replacing him,” Mr. A says, nodding at Peeta. “But I figured it was time I saw what you two got up to in this studio at night. I’m honestly a little disappointed, in my day we'd have already broken out the booze.”

Katniss can see Peeta struggling to get to his feet, and Mr. A waves him down. “Sit, both of you. I think it’s time we had a talk.” After Katniss is settled next to Peeta, Mr. A looks carefully at them both.

“I know you heard Snow and me today. And I want to make it very clear to you. He will do everything in his power to keep you two from winning.” Katniss isn’t surprised by this, but it does make it feel more real, having it stated explicitly. “He’s got it out for me, and so that means he has it out for both of you. And my breaking his unspoken rule and having you two dance together didn’t help.”

“So how can we beat him?” Peeta asks, looking serious.

“You don’t. You dance as well as you can, and then you smile when he gives the win to someone that won’t deserve it as much as you, and then you hope that smile is enough to get you a corps contract at a company other than CBC once you graduate.”

“No.”

Mr. A is surprised. “No?”

“I don’t accept that. How do we win?”

Mr. A regards Peeta with something that looks like respect. Grudging, maybe, but Katniss can tell he admires Peeta’s refusal to back down.

He sits down on his heels, level with them now, looking thoughtful. “First things first, you get the audience, the sponsors on your side. You’ll want them rooting for you. And the former winners too, that can’t hurt. You’ll be dancing last, so you'll be fresh in their minds. Make that count. You have to put in an appearance at the gala the night before, and the reception afterward, so that’s when you get everyone hooked on you both. Talk up how your sister volunteered you. Get them interested in you, your story.”

“What else?” Katniss asks, locking eyes with Peeta. They’re of the same mind about this. They will do whatever it takes.

“He’s not the only judge, so you’ll want to convince the other two that you’re worth picking.”

“We thought about that,” Peeta cuts in. “We know Seneca Crane likes things flashy. But what about the other judge?”

Mr. A purses his lips. “From my interactions with her, she’s very much the opposite. But she appreciates good technique. So just turn out as much as you can and hope for the best.”

“And that’s it?” Peeta asks.

Mr. A grins. “No. Dance the shit out of that pas de deux. Be perfect. Give him no choice but to crown you the winners.”

Katniss grins back at him, then at Peeta. They’re going to do this. They’re going to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Solor's variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHbkesexAXY)
> 
> [Variation from _Diamonds_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=88CdG7ohozA&t=7m44s)


	6. Chapter 6

Mr. A leaves them to their rehearsing after telling them not to stay too late. “Effie, that is to say, Madame Trinket, is concerned you aren’t getting enough sleep. Personally, I don’t think there is such a thing as too much rehearsal and you two need all the help you can get, so my advice is to stay here forever. But, I told her I’d pass on the message.”

He points at Peeta’s knee. “And you, take care of that. You don’t want to end up like me.”

After the door closes behind him, Katniss looks at Peeta, confused. “Like him?”

Peeta shakes his head, fiddling with the wrapping on his knee. “I don’t know. Injured so badly I can’t dance anymore? A painkiller addict? With the most powerful man in the dance world as an enemy? Just that angry all the time?”

“I wonder how he got that way,” Katniss muses, as she starts to stand back up.

“It was Snow. They had a fight, during a rehearsal or something, but he forced Mr. A to dance while injured, that’s how he ruptured his Achilles. And then even when the doctors said he could come back after surgery, Snow forced him to retire. Promised him the artistic directorship of CBC if he did, said he’d step down so Mr. A could take the job. But on his first day, Snow told him he’d decided not to step down after all, and sent him back to Twelve, to get him out of the way.”

Katniss raises her eyebrows. “And I thought One and Two were the gossips in class. Where’d you hear this?”

Peeta gestures in the direction Mr. A disappeared in. “I was eating dinner and he just showed up, started talking to me. After -” He stops talking and looks sheepish. “Well, after, you know.” Katniss realizes exactly who convinced Peeta to go easy on her after their kiss. She’s not sure if she wants to smack Mr. A or thank him. Probably both.

“Anyway, he may have been a little high, but he just went on and on. About his life, about how he couldn’t dance anymore, also, did you know he has a thing for Madame T? But it sounds like he wasn’t happy at CBC anyway, it seems like a pretty cutthroat environment. Fighting for parts, crushed glass in shoes, stuff like that.”

“But it’s the best company in the entire country,” Katniss says, as if this is an excuse for the behavior of the dancers.

Peeta shakes his head. “Yeah, but to make that your life? There are other companies, ones that won’t burn you out in three years.”

Katniss knows Peeta’s right, but there’s a part of her can’t let go of the dream of being a principal at CBC. It’s something she’s been striving for for so long that to imagine a different future for herself is unthinkable. She puts it out of her mind for now. She has too much to focus on in the immediate future, and she won’t even graduate for two years.

“Well we won’t be joining any company if we screw this up,” Katniss retorts, “so I’m going to dance now, if you don’t mind. Keep that knee elevated.”

Peeta mock salutes her. “Yes, Madame.”

Katniss declares she’s done for the night when she sees Peeta trying to hide the look of pain on his face, even when he’s not moving. The bag of ice has long since melted, and there’s nothing more she can do without him tonight.

As she pulls off her shoes and stows them in a mesh bag, Peeta unwraps his knee to see how it looks. Katniss hisses in sympathy as she sees the livid bruise spreading, but Peeta seems pleased. “The swelling’s gone down,” he explains, as he bends the joint, testing it.

After he’s wrapped it up again, Katniss extends her hand to pull him up. She yanks a little too hard, overestimating just how much Peeta is compensating for his injury, and he ends up bumping into her as he finds his feet.

Peeta notices just how close they are and backs up a step, wincing as he puts weight on his bad leg. Katniss sees this and immediately grabs at him, pulling his arm over her shoulders.

“This time I get to lift you,” she says, looking up into his eyes. Peeta lets out a laugh, smiling down at her, but he doesn’t pull away. For the briefest of moments, her eyes flick down to his lips, and she wonders what if, what if she let go for a moment and gave in?

But she puts the thought out of her mind, and focuses on matching his stride. They stay like that for the long, slow walk back to their rooms, Katniss supporting him the entire way.

They part outside his door, Peeta promising he can make it the ten feet inside on his own. He turns back as she starts to walk away, calling her name. “Thank you,” he says.

“Anytime,” Katniss replies.

* * *

The next morning, Katniss comes to the grim realization that the competition is three days away. Today is the last rehearsal they’ll have with Cinna and Portia. Dress rehearsal and the gala are the day after. And then, finally, the Prix de Panem.

She’s the one waiting for Peeta outside his door this morning, and his face visibly brightens when he sees her. She’s about to smile back at him when she notices he’s not wearing street clothes. “You’re taking class?”

Peeta walks in a little circle, a barely discernible pause before the step the only sign of his sprained knee. “Portia brought me a brace, I’m pretty sure it was custom fit for me. One of the perks of being in the Capitol, I guess. And it’s going to get me through today, which is all that matters.” He looks serious, and continues, “I can’t let anyone think I’m hurt. If we’re winning this thing, we have to be seen as a threat.”

Katniss gives him a look. “What do you think made Cato go after you in the first place?”

Peeta thinks for a second, then realization dawns. “Should I be flattered? I guess that means I’m someone worth taking out of the running. I can’t wait to see his face when I turn up unharmed.”

“But you’re not unharmed, though.” Katniss slows her pace to allow him to keep up.

“Trust me, I’ve had an entire life’s worth of practice at hiding injuries. This is nothing.” Peeta states this like it’s a simple fact, but Katniss hears something in his voice that makes her glance at him out of the corner of her eye. His face is studiously blank.

Two weeks ago she wouldn’t have noticed, but by now she knows him well enough to see he’s clenching his jaw slightly, an indication that he’s uncomfortable. Katniss changes the subject quickly, asking if Portia had mentioned if there was any fallout from their stage rehearsal yesterday. As he responds in the negative, she sees the relief in his eyes.

When they enter the studio, Katniss sees Clove whispering to Cato, whose face is the very definition of if looks could kill. Peeta strides across the floor, any trace of a limp gone. To the rest of the tributes, Peeta is either a miraculously fast healer, or so good at dancing through the pain, he’s invincible. Whichever option they believe, it makes Peeta an object of intense scrutiny. Which is exactly what they want.

Katniss purposefully makes herself look bored, like there’s no reason anyone should be interested in Peeta, or herself, but inside she’s cheering. As intimidation tactics go, it’s working. The boy from Four looks absolutely cowed as Peeta takes the spot next to him.

Peeta makes it through class without a wobble, even going twice across the floor. Katniss feels a strange sense of pride in him, watching his face in the mirror. His face is composed, unconcerned. Like the prince he is onstage.

She makes it a point to stand next to him in every group, not just to present themselves as a team, but as a potential shield against vengeful tributes.

The act lasts until they make it to Studio 12. The moment the door swings shut, Peeta shifts all his weight to his right leg, grabbing onto Katniss, who is closer to him than any of the barres. “You okay?” She grimaces at the look on his face.

“Yeah,” Peeta breathes out, eyes closed.

Katniss deposits him at the front of the studio, lowering him carefully to the ground. Placing her hands on her hips, she shakes her head at him. Before she can say anything, Peeta puts both of his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. But it’s just three more days.”

“I don’t think you should rehearse,” Katniss says seriously.

“And I think you’re overreacting. I made it through class, I can make it through the last rehearsal we have before the biggest competition of our lives.” Peeta’s fiddling with his brace as he says this, and she can see the angry red lines where it’s dug into his leg.

“And now I don’t have to hide it, I can take a break if I need to.” He’s looking up at her with such a winning expression, that she can’t help but relent. “Fine. But no jumps,” she admonishes him.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Portia says as she enters the studio, Cinna following close behind. “How was class?” she asks, a concerned look on her face.

“It was okay,” Peeta says quickly.

“It was more than okay, you couldn’t even tell he was injured. Everyone was totally intimidated, he was amazing.” Katniss doesn’t realize she’s beaming with pride as she says this until she catches a glimpse of her face in the mirror.

“I was more referring to how his knee held up during class, but that’s also good to know,” Portia says, laughing a little at Katniss’ enthusiasm. She kneels down next to Peeta, placing a single finger on the muscle and pushing gently.

“It’s better,” Peeta says, his face betraying nothing.

Portia doesn’t look convinced, but eventually relents. “Okay. You can rehearse. But no jumps, none of the big lifts, and you stop the second I say so.” Peeta agrees and gets to his feet.

“We have some notes for you, from the judges yesterday.” Cinna is flipping through a pad of paper, standing in a wide second as he reads through the comments.

“Nothing from Snow, but that’s to be expected. Katniss, for you, they say you could show a little more emotion, you were late on your entrance, your arms were a little too stiff, your arabesques are good. Crane says you could be a little more Diaghilev, what he means by that I’m not sure, Diaghilev wasn’t even a choreographer. Peeta, they were aware of your knee but luckily it seems to have impressed them. They noted your turns especially. They also liked your acting, said to work on your height in your jumps, and maybe some of the lift timing, which I agree with, you two seemed off yesterday. Also, it got a little sloppy toward the end, so make sure you dance the entire piece full out, don’t let it fall apart. Leave them with an image you want them to remember you by.”

Katniss is daunted by the sheer number of corrections Cinna and Portia give after their first runthrough, like seeing it on the stage only magnified the errors they were making and hadn’t fixed. But they go again. And again.

They leave it all in the studio. By the end of rehearsal, Katniss is drained, physically and emotionally. Peeta looks even worse, like someone put through the wringer. He hadn’t allowed Portia to let him stop dancing, and Katniss worries he’s pushed himself past the brink.

But for all their exhaustion, Katniss feels like they almost reached the apex today. Like they came tantalizingly close to the perfection Mr. A described.

There was a moment, in between penchées, as Peeta turned her to the other side, where their eyes met. Each of them was breathing heavily, sweat dripping, but in that briefest of instants, Katniss felt something, a moment of absolute connection, and as she stretched her leg, and Peeta balanced her, the tension in his arms the perfect counterpoint to hers, as her torso leaned forward, and the line created as her arabesque lifted to the vertical, it had felt like something close to sublime.

It’s intoxicating, the dancing, the connection. The absolute trust. It’s something to reach for always, but they’re running out of time.

Cinna and Portia leave them to get ice from the PT room, and the second they exit the studio, Peeta is face down on the ground. Katniss gently prods him with her pointe shoe.

“I think I’m going to live here now. Right here. On the floor.”

Katniss understands where he’s coming from, and she lets out a little groan as she stretches herself out next to him. “But that’s it. All we have left is dress tomorrow before the gala and then it’s the Prix.”

Peeta turns his head so he’s looking at her, managing to not lift his body from the floor in the process, which impresses Katniss for some reason. He thinks for a minute, and then realizes she’s right. “It feels like we just got here.”

Katniss knows what he means. Time has flown. And it’s not that she has found the non-stop rehearsing enjoyable, or the feeling of having to be on during every single group class, but in some way, Katniss has enjoyed being in the competition.

The satisfaction of putting in hard work and seeing results. The confidence of knowing she has prepared as much as she possibly can. The trust she has in her partner. She wants to cling to this moment, these last few days, knowing that it will soon be gone.

But she doesn’t say any of this out loud. Instead she just extends her hand out to Peeta, who looks surprised for a moment, but then reaches across the distance between them to take it.

Katniss doesn’t know how long they stay like that, holding hands, lying next to each other. They break apart only at the sound of Cinna and Portia returning. Katniss pulls her right leg up to stretch it, and Peeta sits up to accept the ice, and the moment’s gone. But for those few minutes, it felt like they had been dancing, even as they lay still.

* * *

Portia preemptively forbids Peeta from rehearsing that evening, and the intensity with which she says it makes both of them agree immediately to take the night off. At this point, there isn’t much more they can fix, all they can do is run the piece over and over and eventually tire themselves out.

Five minutes into her plans of sewing pointe shoes and stretching, however, Katniss feels unsettled. She’s been rehearsing every night for so long that sitting still feels strange. Eventually she gathers up her things, feeling suffocated in her room.

Her plan is to head to the small balcony near their rooms, which she’s gazed at longingly every day on her way to and from the studio. If she can’t dance, she can at least get some air. They’re basically one and the same to her these days.

To her dismay, she sees someone already sitting outside when she arrives. Not wanting to deal with the mind games of having a conversation with another tribute at this point, Katniss turns around. She’s thinking about heading to the studio if only for the familiarity of the space when she hears someone calling her name.

Peeta’s standing there on the balcony, beaming at her.

“I was about to see if you wanted to come out here. Great minds, huh?” He shows her the various therapy bands and bags of ice that show he’s in for a long night of rehabbing his knee. “I couldn’t stand being in my room anymore, and Portia’s guarding the studio. I think she didn’t believe me when I promised to take tonight off.” Katniss supposes she should be surprised at the lengths Portia will go to to keep Peeta from rehearsing, but she knows she’d probably be doing the same thing in her position.

Katniss doesn’t know if it’s the air or Peeta’s presence, but she immediately feels calmer as she settles herself on the ground opposite him. They don’t speak for a while, Katniss sewing, Peeta stretching. Eventually Katniss looks up to find Peeta watching her, and she narrows her eyes. “What?”

“Oh, I was just being grateful I don’t have to do that. Not just the sewing ribbons, but wearing pointe shoes in general. And is that dental floss?” He grabs the case of floss from where it sits near her feet.

“Better than thread,” Katniss replies, and nods at his knee. “How’s that? Are you going to make it through tomorrow?”

“I have to,” Peeta says simply.

Katniss gives him a look. “You don’t have to anything, Peeta. You can withdraw, I could . . . run around onstage and make them love me, shut up!” She laughs at the skeptical look on his face.

“Okay, fine,” she continues, “I need you there with me. But it’s not worth risking your career over, Peeta. If you do permanent damage, then that’s it. I want to win this competition more than anything, for you, for Prim, for me even, but not if it means you risk your knee. We could withdraw. What are they going to do if we don’t compete, kick us out of the academy?”

The words are already out of her mouth before Katniss realizes what she’s said. She’s completely forgotten that’s exactly what happened to his brother. Her eyes wide, she apologizes, “I can’t believe . . . I’m so . . . I forgot. I’m sorry, Peeta. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Peeta looks a little pale, but he acknowledges her apology. Katniss doesn’t know what else to say, and Peeta’s not talking, so she sits and fidgets with the ribbon in her hands. He’s silent for a long time.

“My mother, she was a corps dancer when she was younger,” Peeta says after a while, his voice low. “She wanted more, she thought she deserved to be promoted, but she never was. So she had high hopes for all of us, my brothers and me. She pushed us, hard, when we were kids. If we weren’t good enough, she let us know. And we’ve all disappointed her. According to her, she wasn’t surprised when I couldn’t even get into the Academy on my first try.”

Katniss makes a noise of protest, but Peeta continues on. “And then she finally had something to be proud of, the Mellarks had finally made it to the Prix.” He says this with an air of mockery, knowing how the story ends. “And of course, he fell, midway through his variation. My mother got up and walked out, she didn’t even stay to the end. And he was the golden boy. To her, I’m the screw-up who doesn’t deserve to be here, and she hates that I’m her last chance to grasp at the glory she wanted for herself.”

The venom in his voice surprises Katniss. She remembers how hard Peeta is on himself, how much he puts himself down. Now she understands why. She wants to reassure Peeta, to explain to him he’s incredible, maybe even how much he means to her, but she can tell he wouldn’t hear her in this moment. He’s too caught up in remembering.

So instead she gets up and sits next to him, stretching her legs alongside his. Taking his hand. After a few minutes, she says quietly, “You don’t have to prove anything to her, you know.”

“But I’m not doing this for her. Or my brother, or the family name, or whatever it is they want me to be doing it for. I’m doing this for me. And that’s why I have to compete.”

Katniss smiles to herself, proud of him. “Well, I’m doing this for you too, remember? So let’s make sure we both don’t let you down.”

Peeta glances over at her, sees the smile on her face. He doesn’t smile in return, though, just looks into her eyes intently.

Like an electric spark, Katniss feels it again, the buzzing, all along where she’s pressed up against him, where their hands meet. She realizes she wants to kiss him again, wants to make him feel like he’s wanted, wants to express these feelings she’s having.

 _You have two days until the biggest competition of your life_ , she tells herself. _The last time this happened, it almost ruined everything between you_. This is what led to the first kiss, getting caught up in her emotions, and letting them out. She can’t afford to do that, not now. Not when they’re so close.

But something in her disregards her internal logic, because she doesn’t look away. She even leans in an infinitesimal amount.

Peeta is the one who breaks, looking down and laughing ruefully, “Not again, right?”

Katniss sighs, and lays her head on his shoulder. “No.” And then she says two words which surprise even her. “Not yet.”

She can feel Peeta tense beside her, like he’s fighting not to react. Katniss shouldn’t have said that, she doesn’t know what the future holds for them. For all she knows, back in Twelve, they’ll go back to their practiced avoidance of each other. But part of her wants to hope, wants to keep this boy in her life. And for now, that part of her wants to let that hope live.

The tension gets to her though, and she stands, abruptly. “I’ll get you some more ice,” she blurts out, and practically sprints to the PT room. The girl from Five is getting a hip adjustment as Katniss runs in, and she gives Katniss a scornful look as the therapist pushes on her leg. Katniss fills two bags, and walks back slowly, letting her emotions settle.

When she pulls the door open, Peeta actually looks startled. Katniss is confused as she hands him the ice, and then realizes. “You didn’t think I was coming back.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Peeta shrugs. “Didn’t want to get my hopes up this time,” he says, plainly. In response, Katniss sits next to him again, even closer than before. She meets his eyes, pointedly.

“Sorry to disappoint, but you’re stuck with me for now. We have a competition to win.” She pulls her shoes over, and starts sewing, in a vain effort to restore normalcy to the balcony. She can feel Peeta’s gaze on her, considering her, but he eventually pulls one of the bags over, placing it on his knee.

That’s how they stay until Madame Trinket finds them, sending them back to their own rooms with a despairing wail over how bad the night air is for their bodies.

* * *

The next morning finds Katniss running behind in the worst of ways. Class is taking place on the stage before the dress rehearsals, and there won’t be time to return to the Academy before the gala that evening.

She’s stuffing her dress into her bag when Cinna knocks, opening the door for him as she frantically tries to find her heels. “I know, I know, I’m late, I just forgot that I need to have everything with me for tonight—what?” The look on Cinna’s face is a mixture between shock and disgust.

“Oh, Katniss, we can do better than this.” He’s staring at her crumpled gala dress like it’s offending him personally. Katniss throws her hands in the air. “It’s all I brought! I can’t go to the gala in my leotard and tights, can I?” At least then she’d feel comfortable. Dressing up has never come easily to Katniss.

Cinna hurries her out of the room, leaving the dress behind. “Don’t worry, I have a plan. We need to get you to the stage.”

The ride to the opera house is made marginally more enjoyable by Peeta’s presence as the car rolls through the empty streets. Unfortunately, Madame T feels the need to give him the same education on architecture she gave Katniss on her first ride. Katniss tunes the lecture out as she watches the city pass by.

Peeta, being the kind soul he is, or perhaps just too tired to act otherwise, actually appears to be listening, and he nods along as they pull up to the front of the opera house. Madame T’s voice has somehow gotten shriller, and Katniss winces as she exclaims her excitement over the removal of the scaffolding.

Katniss might have noticed the sudden silence if she had been paying attention, but it takes bumping into Peeta as she tries to exit the car to make her notice something has happened. The entire team is staring at the opera house, transfixed. She looks around, confused, until she sees what has captured their attention.

Because hidden by the scaffolding on her previous trip was a banner. Welcoming all to the Prix de Panem. Covering the entire front of the opera house, bursting with color, the two figures on it intense, larger than life.

And one of those two figures is her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right now, one of the largest ballet competitions in the entire world is happening in New York City. The finals are Wednesday, April 27th, and it looks like they'll be livestreaming, so check it out if you're interested in the world of this story!
> 
> [Youth America Grand Prix Live Broadcast](http://yagp.org/?page_id=5910)


	7. Chapter 7

Katniss can’t stop staring. Specifically, at herself. Only she’s 40 feet tall, and almost unrecognizable.

The image is kinetic, caught in the moment just before the tension breaks. The girl on the banner is fiery, staring into the camera with a smoldering look, past outstretched fingers, reaching toward the viewer. Mid-arabesque, her leg extended high up over her shoulder, on the verge of being pulled back toward the prince behind her.

Katniss’ gaze shifts, upward, her eyes running over Peeta’s image. He’s supporting her, arm strong, the other raised high. But it’s the look on his face that takes her breath away. It’s longing, yearning, his entire being focused on the girl in front of him. Katniss can’t take her eyes off it. The contrast between them, the strength, the fire, it’s like the entire story of their pas de deux is captured in front of her.

Their silence is broken by a scream from Mr. A. Pumping his fist to the sky, he shouts, “Yes! Magic! That’s magic right there.”

Madame T hits him with her purse. “Haymitch, hush! People are staring.”

People are staring, looking confused at the man screaming at a building. Mr. A runs over to Cinna, grasping him by the arms. “Was it you? Did you pay Caesar off? How did you get him to do it?”

Cinna shakes his head, amused. “It wasn’t me. I think he did this on his own.”

Katniss tears her eyes away from the banner, asking, “Who’s Caesar? What did he do?”

Portia takes pity on Katniss, and explains. “Caesar Flickerman, he’s the head of the board of directors of the Prix. He makes all the big decisions, I mean, aside from the judging, and he was clearly impressed by you two, as you can see.”

Katniss glances over at Peeta, who’s still staring. She comes to stand next to him, and finally looking away, he says to her, “This is a big deal, huh?” Katniss laughs at the understatement of the year. This is huge for them. Every single person in attendance at the Prix will recognize them immediately, will be anticipating their performance.

Madame Trinket pushes them all inside after a few more minutes of gazing, and they make their way to the stage for class. Barres have been brought in and lined up in rows, and various members of district entourages are milling about in the audience while their tributes warm up onstage.

As Katniss runs up from the audience, she sees there are quite a few more barres than usual. Peeta points out an empty one upstage, and they both head for it. As Katniss pulls on her shoes, she notices a few unfamiliar faces dotted among the tributes stretching around her. She pokes Peeta. “Who are these people?” Peeta glances over and shrugs. “No idea. That guy over there looks familiar though.” Katniss scrutinizes the guy in question. She’s seen him somewhere before.

She’s about to lean over to ask Clove if she recognizes him as well when she notices a large majority of the tributes are staring at Katniss and Peeta with loathing. Katniss remembers that every single person in the room saw the banner as they entered, not just their group. Katniss turns back around and starts to stretch, avoiding the eyes of everyone on the stage.

She’s in a straddle, resting her head on her folded arms, when it comes to her. She sits straight up in realization. “Peeta! That guy! He’s a soloist with Premier Ballet!” she hisses at him.

Peeta knits his eyebrows together. “Are you sure?”

Katniss nods, her eyes wide. “I think he won the Prix too, do you think the gala performers are taking class with us?”

“We certainly are,” an unfamiliar voice drawls, somewhere over Katniss’ head. She looks up, only to meet the eyes of Finnick Odair, Capitol Ballet principal and Prix de Panem winner.

Katniss stares. She wishes she could make a witty comment, or speak at all, but she’s frozen in place. The person currently taking his place across the barre from her is a legend, one of the best dancers in the country, famously winning the Prix at 14 with the Ali variation from _Le Corsaire_. Finnick gives her a winning smile as he pulls a pair of legwarmers from his bag. Katniss still can’t do anything but stare.

“That’s enough, Finnick. Stop charming the tributes.” A dark-haired girl who Katniss recognizes as a CBC soloist is setting her bag down next to him with a mocking smile. She looks Katniss up and down. “Oh, look, it’s the Firebird.” Her eyes shift to Peeta. “And her Prince.”

Unlike Katniss, Peeta takes it in stride. “Peeta Mellark, District Twelve,” he says, extending his hand. The girl looks impressed.

“It speaks! Johanna Mason. And you are?” she directs at Katniss.

Katniss swallows her intimidation and follows Peeta’s lead. “Katniss Everdeen.”

“Hello, Katniss. Nice banner. You two made the cover of the program, too. The rest of the districts must be dripping with jealousy. It almost makes me miss my Prix days. I did the _Giselle_ variation. The sweet peasant girl one, not the one where she joins the ranks of murderous ghosts.”

Katniss raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re performing tonight?” She doesn’t quite know what to make of Johanna.

Johanna shakes her head as she plops herself down next to Finnick. “No, I’m doing something from _In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated_. This one,” she says, pointing at Finnick, “is doing _Diana and Actaeon_ , per the express wish of our Artistic Director.”

“Don’t remind me,” says Finnick, a dark look on his face. “Just for one year, I want to wear a tunic. Or, a shirt even. Last year was _Le Spectre de la Rose_ , and that was even worse because it was Fokine.” Finnick shudders. “Oh sorry, no offense—I forgot he choreographed your piece.”

“We didn’t pick our choreographer, none taken,” Peeta replies with a small shrug.

“Oh right, Snow went all great ballets this year and assigned them out to the districts. At least we got to pick what we danced in our years.” Finnick gives them both an apologetic look.

“Speaking of our esteemed AD, how mad is he at you two for dancing a pas? That’s half the reason I’m doing one tonight. I was there when he got into it with Haymitch. I had just joined the company, and it was _intense_.” Johanna says this as she pulls on the rattiest warm-ups Katniss has ever seen, and she has to stop herself from making a face. They’re doing what Mr. A wants, they’re getting former winners on their side. Judging their taste in knitwear is probably a bad call.

“He’s not happy,” Katniss responds, allowing herself a small grin. The confidence inspired by the banner has her feeling a little cocky.

“I’d wipe that smile off your face if I were you,” Finnick mutters under his breath, nodding toward the man himself, who has just walked onto the stage, followed by Plutarch and another man Katniss doesn’t recognize.

“What’s he doing here?” Peeta whispers to the professionals.

Johanna shrugs. “Sometimes he teaches class. This going to be fun.” Her words are laced with sarcasm.

The conversations occurring around the stage die down as Snow stands before them. When he’s satisfied he has their attention, he begins to speak. “A very warm welcome to our former Prix de Panem winners,” he says, his voice sounding anything but warm.

“We’re very pleased that you’ve returned to us for our annual gala, where we show off the the greatest talents our country has to offer. I’m sure you will be shining examples to the students here whose shoes you were once in. For our tributes, watch and learn. You could be taking their place someday soon. Caesar?”

He gestures for the man Katniss doesn’t know, who must be Caesar Flickerman, to step forward. Caesar scans the stage with a bright smile on his face, his eyes roving over the dancers warming up. Katniss isn’t sure, but she thinks he lingers on her and Peeta for a moment longer than everyone else.

“Congratulations to all our competitors on making it this far! I’m very much looking forward to tonight. From what I’ve seen, I think this is going to be a very exciting year for the Prix. For now, enjoy your class with your head judge!” He nods deferentially to Snow, and runs down to take a seat in the audience.

Snow claps his hands, and all attention is on him again. “We’ll begin with pliés.” Katniss stands up, palms sweating. She’s never had a class onstage before, with no mirrors, and an audience watching. She whispers a quick prayer to whoever’s listening that she makes it through without embarrassing herself.

Class is decidedly not fun. It’s devastatingly hard, brutally slow adagios, and impossibly fast allegros. Katniss is so busy trying to keep combinations in her head that she forgets to be intimidated by the professional dancers in their midst.

Once, she catches Finnick’s eye as they soutenu to the other side, and he gives her a commiserating look. Katniss gives him a grim smile in return, and mentally pats herself on the back for her successful acquisition of a professional as their ally. And immediately regrets her lapse in concentration when she realizes she’s already behind in her ronde de jambes en l’air.

When class is over, they applaud, for the pianist, for their teacher, for themselves. The people sitting in the audience join in, and before it dies down completely, Snow has walked off the stage. Katniss isn’t sorry to see him go.

Collecting her things, she finds Peeta locked deep in conversation with Finnick. “So you’re saying the reception is where we’ll find the most support?”

“What I’m saying is, you’ll need to find an angle, and you’ll need to work it. You need to be one of the favorites going in. You’re the faces of the Prix now, thanks to Caesar, but that’ll only take you so far. And dancing is only half the competition. The rest is getting them on your side.”

“The judges?” Peeta asks.

“The crowd. The judges. Everyone.” Someone calls Finnick’s name from offstage, and he raises an hand in acknowledgement. “I’m off to rehearse, but I’ll see you tonight at the gala.” He shakes Peeta’s hand, and gives Katniss a quick bow.

“I told Haymitch I wanted to see you two in action before I promised to talk you up to my sponsors, but you can tell him I’ll make the rounds on your behalf tonight. I’ll see if I can get Johanna and some others to do the same,” Finnick calls over his shoulder to them as he’s walking away.

Katniss smiles and nods, like it’s no big deal that one of the top dancers in the country will be campaigning on their behalf. Katniss clutches at Peeta’s forearm, the only reaction she’s allowing herself in front of the rest of the tributes. “I know, I know, I know,” he whispers forcefully. She waits for him to grab his bag, and they walk sedately across the stage, but Katniss is dancing on the inside.

“Saw you getting cozy with Finnick up there,” Mr. A says to them as they join him in the aisle. Peeta and Katniss share a look, and she raises her eyebrows at him, urging him to say it.

“He says he’ll talk to his sponsors about us,” Peeta grins. Mr. A raises his eyes skyward, and Katniss sees his fist do the tiniest of pumps. He looks at both Katniss and Peeta, and shakes his head. “I don’t know what you two did to deserve this kind of luck, or if it’s karma paying us back for your knee, boy, but keep it up.”

“How is your knee, Peeta?” Madame T asks, looking concerned. “I was watching, and it looked a little stiff at first.”

“It’s fine, Madame,” Peeta reassures her. “Doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Is that true?” Katniss asks him quietly as Madame ushers them through a side door and leads them backstage.

“It’s still a little sore,” Peeta admits, “but it’s better than yesterday. Looks like taking the night off actually helped.”

Katniss looks around, realizing that people are missing from their little group. “Where are Cinna and Portia?”

“They’re getting your costumes, dears, they’ll be meeting you at your dressing rooms, which should be, ah yes.” Madame slows to a stop in front of a nondescript door with a piece of paper reading “11/12” taped to it. “This is you, Katniss. They’ll call you to the stage when it’s time.”

Katniss opens the door to find Rue and her coach talking inside, Rue’s costume already hanging on the rack. Rue waves as Katniss sets her bag down in front of the unoccupied mirror and starts laying out everything she’ll need. She’s in the middle of arranging her makeup in rows when there’s a knock on the door.

Rue runs over and pulls it open, Cinna peeking around the doorframe to see if Katniss is inside. Katniss meets his eyes in the mirror. “I have your tutu, Katniss.” It’s not dress rehearsal if she has no costume. Rue’s coach seems to realize four people in the tiny dressing room is too much, and she exits gracefully, kissing Cinna on the cheek as she leaves.

Cinna hangs a black dress bag on the rack and then presents Katniss with the familiar black flat bag from their photoshoot. “Take good care of this. And let me know if there’s any problems with the fit.”

Katniss unzips the bag and inspects the tutu. “Cinna, it looks perfect, just like before. But what’s that?” She indicates the second bag he brought with him.

Cinna smiles, a little conspiratorially. “It’s part of your strategy.” Confused, Katniss opens the bag. Inside is a dress, a few shades darker than her tutu, lengths of tulle and fitted bodice combining to evoke a familiar silhouette. Katniss can already tell when she puts it on, she’ll be instantly recognizable to everyone in the crowd as the Firebird.

Cinna winks at her, saying, “I couldn’t let you wear that crumpled old thing from this morning. And now you and Peeta will match.” Katniss looks at Cinna gratefully, unable to find the words to convey how much she appreciates the dress, his help, their entire team working together to help her and Peeta to win, in every way possible.

“What’s Peeta wearing?” Katniss asks, curious as to how they’ll have him match her.

“You’ll just have to see tonight. Now get your makeup on, they’re rehearsing the gala pieces right now, but they’ll be calling you to the stage soon.” Cinna shuts the door, nodding to Rue, who is running her hands lovingly over Katniss’ tutu.

“You’re so lucky, my coach didn’t get me a dress!” Rue exclaims as she sits down in front of her mirror. Katniss knows how lucky she is to have Cinna, but this goes beyond anything she could have expected.

The next hour passes as Katniss and Rue apply their makeup (Katniss applies Rue’s eyeliner for her) and get into their costumes, layering legwarmers and down vests over their tutu and dress, respectively, to keep themselves warm. Katniss is screwing extra bobby pins into her headpiece when the call comes over the loudspeaker in their dressing room. “Districts Eleven and Twelve to the stage, please. Districts Eleven and Twelve.”

They exit their dressing room to find the boys walking down the hallway, Thresh in black tights and a short jacket, Peeta in the familiar red. Katniss slows so she can walk with Peeta, who’s not exactly limping, but walking more gingerly than he had been. “It’s just a little stiff,” he replies to her unasked question. “Thresh saw my brace, so I don’t need to fake it around him. I don’t think he’d be intimidated by me anyway, I’ve seen him jump. He’s got nothing to worry about.”

Katniss has to agree. Thresh’s jumps are things of beauty, she doesn’t know if she’s ever seen anyone get that high, and he barely looks like he’s trying. Katniss can hear the music for White Swan coming from the stage door that Rue’s holding open, and walks a little faster, wanting to see what the girl from Ten looks like as Odette.

Katniss makes it in for the last pass of lame ducks, which doesn’t leave her enough material to form an opinion. The costume is beautiful though, feathered and white, which makes Katniss wonder how many birds are in the competition aside from her and Ten.

Rue pulls off her warm-ups as they hear, “District Ten, male variation from Swan Lake,” over the speakers. Peeta and Thresh are the ones who lean forward now to watch the boy from Ten try his hand at Siegfried.

Unfortunately for the boy from Ten, they turn around and walk back into the wings after the first jump pass. Katniss remembers Cinna saying that he couldn’t hack Siegfried, and that doesn’t appear to have changed.

Then Rue is called, and all three of them crowd into the wings to watch her. Thresh has a small smile of pride on his face when she finishes, holding her last attitude balance for what seems like days. He gives her a little hug when she runs off the stage, then runs out to start his own variation.

“That was great,” Katniss tells Rue as she sheds her own leg warmers. “I messed up the turns,” Rue laments, her eyes fixed on Thresh as he jumps his way across the stage. “Then it’s a good thing this is only dress rehearsal,” Katniss says, hoping to make Rue feel better.

As Thresh does his final jump pass, Peeta comes to stand next to Katniss. He takes both her hands in his. “Last rehearsal. We’ve got this.” She nods in response, exhaling, looking him deep in the eyes, doing quick relevés to warm up her feet.

Thresh runs offstage, and then, they are announced.

It goes horribly.

Katniss completely loses her balance during a pirouette and the only reason she stays upright is Peeta yanking her back toward him. Peeta lands badly on a jump and staggers for half a second before he’s able to pull himself up. They’re both to blame for the mess they make of the lifted saut de chat.

When it’s over, when they’ve both escaped offstage, all they can do is shake their heads and pant.

“It was me,” Peeta says as soon as he’s caught his breath. “I was off, I was too worried about this stupid knee—”

Katniss cuts him off. “It wasn’t you, it was me, I was too much in my head. I couldn't shake that bad pirouette.” She shakes her head in frustration. This was their last rehearsal before the Prix, and they blew it.

“Bad dress rehearsal, good opening night?” The question is rhetorical, but Katniss appreciates the effort Peeta’s putting in to make her feel better.

“Yeah, but we don’t have an opening night, we have one chance to perform and that's it.” Katniss knows she’s being cynical, but right now it’s the only emotion she has.

Katniss is angrily trying to rip her headpiece off when she hears someone calling their names from the audience. Peeking her head around the wings, she sees Cinna motioning them down into the house. Calling Peeta’s name, she indicates he should follow her. “They want to see us,” she says, resigned.

As they walk over to their team’s location, Katniss sees similar conversations taking place all around the house, tributes getting final critiques from their coaches. If only they’d had a good rehearsal, then she could face Cinna. As it is, she takes her time trudging up the aisle, Peeta walking slowly beside her.

When they reach their team, Katniss stares sullenly at her feet, waiting for someone to rip into them. Mr. A speaks first. “Well, aside from some clear mistakes, I think you two have a real shot.”

Katniss opens her mouth, ready to defend herself, when she realizes what Mr. A just said. “Wait, huh? A real shot at what? We just screwed up our entire piece.” Peeta sounds as confused as she is.

Cinna looks Katniss and Peeta in the eyes, his gaze reflective. “You two didn’t see what we did out here.” Portia continues, “We sat through every variation, every jump, every turn, and no one up on that stage had the connection you two had—not just with each other, but with the audience.”

“It was, to quote Haymitch, magic.” Madame T concludes. Katniss knows the woman is prone to hyperbole, but she can’t help but feel her confidence buoyed by their reactions.

“You’re not mad?” she asks, just to make sure. “We dropped a pirouette!”

Cinna waves her off. “I’ve seen you two do that step a million times, I know you can do it. We were looking for the heart of the pas, and you two found it.”

Katniss looks over at Peeta, who looks as relieved as she feels. Mr. A sees their nervous smiles and stands up, pointing a finger at them. “This does not mean you two were perfect, because you were far from it. You did screw up. And I expect those problems fixed by competition tomorrow. Just because you managed to outdance just about everyone on that stage today, and these people who are very much not judges liked your dancing, that does not mean you’ve got yourself a win. There’s still work to be done.”

This reassures Katniss more than anything that’s been said so far. Mr. A is complaining and pointing. They’re back on solid footing now.

A voice comes over the speakers, asking for the house to be cleared for gala preparations, and Katniss and Peeta are sent to remove their costumes and to work on partnered pirouettes per Mr. A’s instructions, “Until you can do them with your eyes closed. Both of you.”

Every rehearsal room they try is full, either with fellow tributes or gala performers. Katniss tries the door of the last room on the floor, which appears empty at first glance, but stops dead in her tracks when she sees who’s sitting on the floor near the mirrors. Peeta bumps into her, not realizing she’d stopped. “Sorry, we’ll leave you alone,” she calls to Finnick and an unfamiliar girl.

“No, no, come in. We were just finishing up. Katniss, Peeta, meet Annie Cresta.” The girl on the floor smiles up at them. Katniss drops a curtsy while Peeta bows. “I was just telling her about you two.”

“He said you’re the ones to beat. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you in class, my train from Four was late.” Annie seems to exude warmth, and she actually appears to be genuinely sorry, which is a rarity for people Katniss has met in the Capitol.

“How was dress?” Finnick asks, lazily propping himself up on his elbows.

“Kind of a disaster,” Peeta admits.

“We screwed up the simplest things,” Katniss says, annoyed.

“It’s always the easiest step that gives you problems. For my Prix, I did Coppélia, and I’d do three perfect Italian fouettés and then fall out of a double pirouette at least once a rehearsal,” Annie says, laughing at the memory.

“Why don’t you show us where you went wrong,” Finnick suggests. Peeta makes a show of protesting, insisting Finnick must be too busy to watch two lowly tributes do partnered pirouettes, but raises an eyebrow at Katniss in triumph after Annie chimes in with a request to see their turns.

As Katniss pliés in fourth in preparation, she remembers this was the first step she and Peeta ever did together, forever ago when they’d just been chosen for the Prix. She smiles at the thought, and begins to turn.

“Right there!” Finnick shouts. “You’re not getting up to passé quickly enough and you’re leaning away from it. Try it again, but springing straight up before the actual turn.”

Katniss tries it again. And it’s perfect. She snaps straight into her passé and suddenly she’s spinning faster than she ever has before, Peeta’s hands a blur at her waist. When he slows her and she pliés down, Annie’s already clapping.

“Well done, keep working on that. We’ll leave you alone now, Finnick and I have more catching up to do,” she says, pulling him out of the room. Finnick leans around the doorway on his way out, surprising Katniss mid-passé, calling to them, “I think you’ve got Annie on your side as well, so make sure you put in an appearance at the reception. Try to stand out so we can point you out in the crowd.”

“Cinna made sure of that, you won’t be able to miss me,” Katniss replies as Peeta holds her in place. Finnick nods in acknowledgement, and then he’s gone. After two more pirouettes in which Katniss feels the subtle difference working in her favor, she walks in a circle, waiting for her brain to return to normal after so many turns.

“What did you mean what you said Cinna made sure that no one will miss you?” Peeta asks, watching her as she places her hand between her eyes, one of her instant tricks to stop dizziness.

“Oh, he said the dress I brought for the gala wouldn’t work with his strategy so he brought me one that’s basically my tutu. Anyone who sees me will know what I’m dancing.”

“I guess that’s why I’m wearing a deep red suit jacket?” Peeta asks, amused. “I mentioned to Portia I thought we should match last week and she showed up with it this morning. I wasn’t exactly planning on something that flashy, but whatever it takes, I guess.”

Katniss glances sideways at Peeta, impressed. “It was your idea for us to match?” Peeta shrugs. “We’re the only team,” he says simply. “Might as well make it obvious to anyone looking at us.”

Katniss lets out a little smile. “I think it’ll be pretty obvious, because there’s no way you’re leaving my side all night. You cannot let me face these people alone.”

Peeta laughs. “I think we can mingle at a champagne reception by ourselves for at least a few minutes.”

Katniss grabs his hand and turns him to face her. “Peeta, I’m serious. You cannot leave me alone. You have to stay with me.” She needs him by her side, for so many reasons.

He looks in her eyes and sees the intensity with which she means it. “Okay, okay,” he says reassuringly. “I’ll stay with you. Always.”

Katniss breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Peeta squeezes her hand. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ali variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sq-GSXh9OEY)
> 
> [_Giselle_ variation (the sweet peasant girl one)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkbbEqQR_Rs)
> 
> [_In The Middle, Somewhat Elevated_ pas de deux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-jzcbFJSqcE)
> 
> [_Diana and Actaeon_ pas de deux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Py9iuKP_bLA)
> 
> [ _Le Spectre de la Rose_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_773LlvuYj0)
> 
> [White Swan variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26lTk7hcu70)
> 
> [_Coppélia_ variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=taF-76u8oNc)


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the afternoon is spent working on moments of potential disaster. They’d moved on to the disastrous saut de chat lift, the angle of which Katniss keeps pushing to be more impressive. Peeta wants it to be clean and lower.

“I’m just saying we don’t have many moments to wow the the audience, and that jump is one of them. We need to make the most of it,” Katniss argues.

“And I say our strength lies in our connection, in the moments between the jumps,” Peeta retorts. “You heard what they all said after dress. They weren’t wowed by the steps, they were wowed by you and me. Together. We need to make the audience believe in us.”

Katniss knows he’s right, but part of her still wants to make the audience gasp. They settle on a compromise of a lower angle but faster entrance, leaving Katniss hovering in the air for longer, a feat of strength on both of their parts. She feels more secure in their technique, but Katniss would give anything for another hour, day, week, in which to practice. But they’ve run out of time.

Katniss sits to remove her pointe shoes, resigned to the fact that the rest of her evening will be spent not dancing, but still working toward winning the Prix in every way. Katniss already feels exhausted. When she’s dancing, she feels in control. But appearing onstage at the gala and the reception afterward, as just herself, is daunting.

Sprawling back onto the floor, ribbons untied but shoes still on, she stares up at the ceiling, allowing herself a brief moment to empty her mind of thoughts of competition, of dancing, of anything at all.

When Peeta appears in her field of vision, instead of breaking the spell, Katniss finds herself comforted by the sight of him. She doesn’t know when she started associating him with feelings of calm and warmth, but that’s what spreads over her at the sight of him looking down at her.

“You okay?” Peeta asks, amused at the expression on Katniss’ face. “You look kind of out of it.”

Katniss bites her lip and shrugs. “I don’t know if I’m looking forward to tonight,” she admits.

“I am,” Peeta says.

“Yeah, but you’re naturally charming and people like you. Even when you aren’t dancing,” Katniss points out.

“People like you too,” Peeta protests, weakly. Katniss gives him a disbelieving look. “Okay, you’re a little prickly, but don’t forget, someone has made me promise to stand by their side all night, so you won’t have to do any talking. Leave it all to me.”

Katniss smiles in response, holding up her hand. “I’m going to hold you to that. Help me up?” Peeta grasps it and pulls her from her supine position, taking a seat next to her. Katniss knocks the toes of her shoes together, making a hollow clacking noise.

She’s back in her head again, back to remembering that she’s a competitor in the most prestigious competition in the country, and that she has one day left to make anything count. Looking over at Peeta, who’s regarding her with a contemplative look, she asks, “Do you think we can do this? Truthfully.”

Peeta thinks for a moment, looking at his knee. “I think there are a lot of things against us. I’m not 100 percent, the head judge is firmly opposed to us winning, the competition is incredibly tough. But you heard Mr. A today, he thinks we have a shot. We have people who want us to win, who will do everything they can to help us. I have to believe that means something.”

Katniss understands what he means. She’s made her promises to win, for Peeta, for Prim, but somehow it’s become about more than promises. She wants to fulfill the faith that has been placed in her, by Cinna, even Mr. A. But Peeta's put it into words better than she ever could.

"This is why you're going to be doing all the talking tonight," Katniss says.

* * *

Katniss returns to her dressing room to find Rue curled up on the small couch, napping. Katniss wishes she could do the same, but instead she jumps in the shower, washing away the sins of the day and soothing her aching muscles.

Sitting at the mirror in her robe, Katniss considers her face. Without the stage makeup, it’s plain, nothing remarkable. Nothing like the girl on the banner that covers the building.

She knows that everything today has been a gift, that she couldn’t have asked for things to go better. Professionals on their side, especially considering they all have their own districts they could be backing, her coach pulling out all the stops so she can impress at the gala, even dress rehearsal, as disastrous as it was, gave her hope in the end. Katniss only hopes she can live up to it all.

Pulling her hair into a slightly more intricate version of the braid she wears daily, Katniss pins it up, giving herself a familiar silhouette. Some days she can’t remember what she looks like with her hair down.

Rue wakes up as Katniss is applying her makeup, not as intense as her stage makeup for _Firebird_ , but enough to make her features seen onstage. Katniss meets her eyes in the mirror. “I was about to wake you up, they just made the hour call.”

As Rue stretches on the couch and makes moves toward getting up, Katniss pulls her dress from the rack where it hangs next to her tutu. Slipping it over her head, she marvels at the fit, realizing Cinna must have been planning this for some time, using the measurements from her tutu to create the piece she’s wearing now.

As Rue zips her up, Katniss scrutinizes at herself in the mirror. Tulle reaching to an appropriate ballerina-length, flowing up the bodice, lace over her heart. Madame T stops by as the half-hour call comes over the loudspeaker, making Katniss change her lipstick but otherwise declaring her approval of her outfit.

Not wanting to subject her already overworked feet to heels any sooner than necessary, Katniss pulls on a pair of down booties and decides to walk down to Peeta’s dressing room to see exactly how much they match.

Halfway down the hallway, she hears someone yell, “Hey, Firebird!” at her. Turning, she sees Johanna sprawled on a couch similar to the one Rue had been napping on through the open door next to her, motioning her in. Katniss enters, feeling self-conscious as Johanna looks her up and down.

Johanna shakes her head. “Well, you’re recognizable, that’s for sure.” She pats the couch next to her, and Katniss sits, awkwardly. Johanna’s already in her _In the Middle_ costume, leotard and tights, and Katniss feels overdressed.

Johanna regards Katniss in an almost predatory way. “Your AD came to see me today. He wants me to throw off my district competitors and tell my sponsors to talk you up to the judges. And believe me, I’ve seen what the kids from Seven are doing and it will be no hard task to get me to switch my loyalties— _Sylphides_ , what a bore-fest—but tell me, Katniss, why I should be supporting you.”

Katniss shrugs.

“Wrong! You give me a heartbreaking story, or you go cocky, telling me how you’re better than everyone else in the competition. Did Haymitch not prep you for this?” Katniss shrugs again. Johanna intimidates her enough she seems to have lost the power of speech.

“What’s your angle?” Johanna asks, standing and touching up her eyeliner.

“Um, my sister volunteered me and so I’m doing this for her?” Katniss ventures.

Johanna considers it, and nods. “Not bad. If I were you though, I’d really play up the fact that you’re doing a pas. It’s rare enough that it’s a story in itself, and based on what I’ve seen of you and blondie, people are going to want to hear your story, as in the two of you together.”

“Together?” Katniss asks, confused.

“Together.” Johanna says, quirking an eyebrow.

Katniss goes white for a second, thinking Johanna knows about the kiss, about the history her and Peeta share, but then realizes Johanna is just pushing the story of any pas de deux partners. The late nights in the studios, the closeness of bodies, which Katniss realizes, is her and Peeta’s story as well. The white deepens into a blush. Johanna snorts at Katniss’ reaction.

“I’m just saying. The audience would eat it up. Think about it.” Johanna, having finished preening, comes and perches herself on the arm of the couch. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do if you win?”

Katniss responds, bemused. “Go back to the academy? Be proud I brought the win back to Twelve? Hope that people remember me when I’m auditioning for companies in two years?”

Johanna looks at Katniss, serious now. “He hasn’t done this in a while, but sometimes, Snow will offer a corps contract on the spot to a winner. Not every year, but it’s happened. And I’m sure Haymitch will warn you about this, but if you don’t accept on the spot, Snow blacklists you.”

“Blacklists?” Katniss can’t imagine what that would mean. “You’ll never be considered again for a spot at CBC. Have you met Annie?” Katniss nods. “She turned down the contract, because she wanted to graduate from the academy first. And now she’s dancing back in Four, because even though she’s with Finnick and an incredible dancer, Snow won’t even consider her for the company.”

Katniss doesn’t know what she’d do in this situation, and tells Johanna so.

“If it’s what you want, then just be prepared to accept if you win. If you’re not, then you have some thinking to do. But it’s not for everyone. Only the strong survive, or so they say.”

“And you’re one of the strong ones?” Katniss asks, already knowing the answer.

“You bet your ass I am. Now go find your partner and figure out your angle.”

* * *

Katniss doesn’t find Peeta in his dressing room, just Thresh, who looks odd in a suit and tie after so many days of seeing him in tights. With time running out before the start of the gala, Katniss decides to go back to her dressing room for one last mirror check and then to hopefully find Peeta backstage.

She realizes she’s already found him, however, when she hears laughter coming from the open door of her dressing room. Peeking her head around the door to find Rue in hysterics, placing her wig on an indulging Peeta’s head.

“Sorry, Peeta, but I don’t think you’re pulling it off,” Katniss says, making her presence known, Rue giggling all the while.

“I think I look good,” he insists.

“You do, but it’s not the wig,” Katniss admits, admiring the cut of his jacket, which she notices does in fact match her dress perfectly. Cinna really knows exactly what he’s doing.

Katniss kicks off her booties as Peeta carefully places the wig on the stand next to Rue’s mirror. “I went looking for you, and found Johanna instead,” she says, inspecting her makeup. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do.

“You met Johanna Mason?” Rue asks, awed.

“And then some,” Katniss replies, raising her eyebrows.

“What’d she say?” Peeta asks. Katniss shakes her head meaningfully. She wants to talk to Peeta privately, but Rue shows no signs of leaving as she smiles innocently at Katniss.

Finished touching up her makeup, Katniss steps into her heels, steadying herself with an hand on Peeta’s elbow. She catches a glimpse of herself and Peeta in the mirror as she straightens, and is taken aback by their reflections. They’re all sharp angles, deep reds and blacks, severe and striking. They look hungry, like they’re there to win.

“All dancers to the stage, please. All dancers,” comes the call. Rue scampers out of the room at the announcement, while Katniss makes a more refined exit, only to turn back once she realizes Peeta isn’t following her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, worried. Peeta shakes his head at her concern.

“No, no, sorry, nothing’s wrong. I know we have to go, but you just looked like you wanted to say something earlier.” He’s leaning against the couch, arms crossed, and Katniss is momentarily distracted by the sight.

“Oh, it was about Johanna. She said we should figure out our strategy for tonight ahead of time. We need to appeal to the audience somehow. She suggested playing up that we’re doing a pas, but I was thinking cocky, we’re already on the banner,” Katniss says, watching Peeta’s face to gauge his reaction.

Peeta shakes his head, “No, no, we should be grateful for the audience’s support. The pas thing is good though, we are unique.”

Katniss remembers how Peeta described their connection earlier, and realizes their strategy has already been chosen for them. She tells Peeta, “Together, then. We match, we’re the only partners, that’s our angle.” She doesn’t mention just how much Johanna had insinuated their togetherness.

They’re among the last ones backstage, but they make it there before anyone comes looking for them. The stage is a mass of people, performers marking through their pieces, tributes trying to not be too obvious as they watch, the judges standing in a corner observing.

Katniss hears clapping, and sees Caesar Flickerman standing center stage, grinning widely as the chaos around him dies down and all present fix their attention on him. “Hello again, to all of you. And welcome to tonight’s gala!”

Katniss tunes him out, distracted by the buzzing of the audience on the other side of the curtain. Her gaze moves around her, taking in the lights, the backdrops hanging high above. After all the rehearsing, she can’t quite believe she’s standing on the stage, one day away from when and where her fate will be decided.

She starts when the crowd around her starts applauding and dispersing, realizing she missed everything Caesar said. “What did he say? What are we doing?” she whispers to Peeta, who gives her a sideways look.

“Were you not listening?” he asks, a little amused.

“I got distracted! Look at where we are!” Katniss spreads her arms wide, indicating the stage they stand on.

Peeta explains what Katniss missed as they make their way into the wings, joining the rest of the dancers. “We’re up first. They’re going to show a recap of the Prix so far, classes, rehearsals, then we’ll all be introduced. We wave, smile, and that’s it for us.”

“That’s it?” Katniss feels a little underwhelmed. She doesn’t know what she expected, but it feels like something more should be required of them.

Peeta shrugs. “I guess. They said we can stay backstage to watch if we want, after they’re finished with us.” The stage emptied of dancers, they stand downstage left, waiting for something to happen. Katniss feels like she’s been standing backstage for hours.

She’s about to turn to Peeta, to further discuss their strategy for the reception, when suddenly the lights go down, the curtain goes up, and she can hear what sounds like thousands of people applauding as Caesar is revealed at the front of the stage. Katniss is instantly nervous.

“Welcome, to our annual Prix de Panem gala! We’re thrilled to be back this year, to bring you some of our favorite past winners, and to show you the best and the brightest our academies have to offer, this year’s competitors! I am your host, as always, Caesar Flickerman.” Caesar bows, in response to the enthusiastic applause.

“Tonight’s gala takes place due to the generosity of so many people, but there are a few in particular we’d like to especially thank.” Caesar proceeds to read off a list of about twenty names, the major sponsors of the Prix. Katniss does her best to fix many names as she can in her memory. Caesar then introduces the judges, sitting in the first row of the audience, who stand and briefly wave to the crowd.

“Some say ballet is a dying art form, that we don’t need it anymore. But all of you here, in the audience tonight, those of you who will be here tomorrow, and the many people who will watch the competition from their own homes, are proof that ballet is still important. Still necessary. And the talented individuals I’m about to introduce to you are the future of ballet. Are you ready to meet them?” More applause.

Caesar steps to the side as a white screen is lowered, and then Katniss is looking at herself again. Only this time, instead of projecting confidence and strength like the banner, she’s pale, and clearly nervous, standing at the barre during class the first day.

Peeta elbows her. “I know, I know!” she whispers, unable to take her eyes from the screen. The next shot is Cato, his face haughty. Then Glimmer, then Rue, then Peeta, until all of them have flashed by. Katniss vaguely remembers people shooting video during class, and even during rehearsal, but she didn’t realize the end result would be this.

After that, it’s carefully selected shots of them during class, impressive moments. Grand jetés that are perfect splits in the air. Turns that go on forever. Groups of tributes, moving perfectly in unison. Through the camera lens, they’re made into something grander than what they are. The audience murmurs appreciatively.

The footage moves on to shots of rehearsals, girls in practice tutus, boy after boy doing double tour after double tour, Katniss’ heart leaping every time she sees a shot of herself or Peeta. They’re usually jumping, or he’s balancing her, but Katniss notices a few shots where they’re talking, heads close together, or they’re glancing at each other, gazing even, from across the studio.

There’s one shot in particular that stands out, from their rehearsal onstage. The camera lingers on her face as onscreen, she breaks character for the slightest of moments, and Katniss watches herself smiling brightly at Peeta, the look on her face beatific, before composing her expression and returning to the Firebird once more. The murmuring grows louder.

The last shot is of the girl from Five, looking directly into the camera as she rips off four perfect Italian fouettés and balances in sous-sus. There’s more clapping, and then Caesar is calling them onto the stage, one by one. Taking it in turns to bow, or curtsy, then join the line forming behind them.

As Rue walks onto the stage, Katniss takes a deep breath. All she has to do is go out there and acknowledge the audience. It seemed like nothing before. But right now it seems like the most daunting thing in the world. She doesn’t want to go out there alone. And then she realizes she doesn’t have to.

She whispers urgently to Peeta, “Walk out there with me.” Katniss grabs his hand, feeling steadier the moment she takes it.

“What?” Peeta whispers back, confused.

“Our strategy starts now. Do not let go of my hand.”

And then Caesar’s calling her name, and she’s walking out on stage, and Peeta’s walking beside her, hands joined. “And Peeta Mellark!” Caesar continues, obviously surprised to see them come out together, but clearly pleased, evidenced by the wide grin on his face.

Her nerves threaten to overwhelm her, but Katniss doesn’t let her step falter. The lights are dazzling her vision, but she can just make out the audience in the dark of the house. From where she stands, they’re nothing more than anonymous ovals in seats, but she knows how important they are, and she must react appropriately.

And so she smiles graciously, looking up at Peeta every few steps. She can’t be sure, but is the applause a little louder than it was for Thresh? As they reach center stage, she takes a step forward, curtsying deeply enough for her knee to almost touch the stage. Peeta acknowledges her with an outstretched hand, then bows himself.

Katniss takes a step back to join him, their hands finding each other’s immediately. She’s held his hand countless times over the past two weeks, but here, in front of thousands of people, it feels like something more.

As she takes it, their gazes lock for an instant. Katniss grins, a real smile this time, not something forced for the audience. She can tell he’s feeling the same way she is, nervous, a little overwhelmed by their entire situation, but also knowing there’s no place she’d rather be. And no one else she’d rather have by her side.

But the moment ends, and they turn their gazes back to the audience, acknowledging the applause, which seems to have gotten even louder. There are even a few whoops. They take their place at the end of the line, and then Caesar’s gesturing for them all to bow again, the girls taking a step forward to curtsy in unison, the boys bowing in place as the curtain falls.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your Prix de Panem competitors!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ _Les Sylphides_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBJNc3h7Hp8)


	9. Chapter 9

With the curtain down, Katniss drops the fixed smile from her face and relaxes her posture. She turns to find Peeta looking excited next to her, and she can’t help but laugh at his expression. “Okay, that was brilliant. Did you plan that ahead of time and spring it on me just in case I said no?” he asks, as a stagehand ushers them backstage.

“Honestly, I just didn’t want to go out there by myself,” Katniss admits. They tuck themselves behind a barre, out of the way of the clusters of performers waiting their turn to dance, but with a perfect view of the stage.

“Well, the crowd loved it, so let me know if you have any more strategic ideas,” Peeta says as he leans on the barre.

Katniss notices he’s shifted his weight onto his right leg. “Shouldn’t you be sitting down?” she asks, looking pointedly at his knee.

“Probably,” he agrees, and then shushes her as Caesar announces someone performing the male variation from _Flames of Paris_.

They’re joined in their little corner by Glimmer and the girl from Five, and they applaud along with the audience after each piece. A woman named Cecelia who does Queen of the Dryads gets a warm reception, as does a tall blonde who in Katniss’ opinion, slightly overdoes _The Dying Swan_. Glimmer gets a cheek kiss from her as she leaves the stage, and spends the rest of the gala radiating smugness.

Finnick and Annie are the last performers of the evening, and the ovation after they finish seems to last forever. One final curtain call from all involved, and the gala is over.

Katniss ducks under the barre, making her way to the stage, Peeta following her a second later. “So where do we go now?” she asks. She can hear the audience streaming out of the house on the other side of the curtain, headed for the reception.

“I think the reception itself is in the lobby but Madame said to meet her and Mr. A first. I think she wants to make sure we aren’t an embarrassment,” Peeta says.

“She already made me change my lipstick, what more does she want?” Katniss says, offended.

“I want you to act in an appropriate way around the very important people you are about to be having polite conversation with, young lady,” comes the response. Katniss blanches as Madame steps out from the darkness backstage. To cover for her embarrassment, Katniss drops a quick curtsy. Madame sniffs at her, staring at Katniss down the arch of her nose.

Mr. A follows Madame out of the darkness, smirking. “Now, now, Effie, I’m sure these two will behave appropriately. They’ve already got the audience eating out of their hands. Whose idea was it for you two come out together?” Peeta points at Katniss.

Mr. A flashes Katniss a thumbs up before continuing, “Keep that up, it made you stand out. You’re already recognizable, but now you want to get them on your side, the two of you, not anonymous dancers in a program.”

“We decided to play up the fact that it’s the two of us together, that we’re the only team,” Peeta explains.

Mr. A nods in response, looking thoughtful. “That works. Effie, didn’t you want to powder Katniss’ nose or something?”

Madame’s eyes widen. “She is far too shiny, yes. Katniss, come.”

“Go do your thing, I need a word with Peeta,” Mr. A calls to them as Madame shoos Katniss back to her dressing room. Katniss looks back in confusion as she’s pulled away. Peeta seems just as bewildered as she is, and then he and Mr. A are lost to the wings.

One coat of lipstick and a storm of powder later, Madame fretting all the while about how they’re going to be late for the reception, Katniss is deemed presentable. Exiting the dressing room, they find Peeta and Mr. A waiting patiently.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Madame says. “Are we all ready?” Without waiting for an answer, Madame grasps Katniss and Peeta’s elbows and marches them down the hallway.

Mr. A walks alongside them, giving them last minute pointers for the reception. “Be confident, but don’t boast. Gracious, but not over the top. Peeta, like we discussed. You, sweetheart, mention your sister if they’re still on the fence. The sponsors will be watching class tomorrow before their lunch with the judges, so if you, or any of the _many_ professional dancers I have recruited into being on your team fail tonight, you’ll have one more chance. But you will not let it come to that. And avoid the woman with the purple hair, she’s nuts.”

Madame T comes to a stop just outside a set of double doors. “These doors lead to the house. You both know how to get to the lobby from there. We’ll follow in a few moments, you two should enter the reception by yourselves. Toi toi toi, darlings!” she breathes, and air kisses them both, before pushing them into the auditorium.

The auditorium is deserted, but Katniss can hear the sounds of the reception as they make their way down the aisle. Turning to Peeta as she walks, she asks, “What did Mr. A want to talk to you about while I was getting powdered to death?” Peeta shrugs. “Just strategy stuff, nothing specific.”

He isn’t meeting her eyes, and Katniss has a sneaking suspicion he’s not being entirely truthful. But they’ve reached the lobby doors, and Peeta pauses before they go through. “You ready for this?” he asks as he offers her his arm.

“Not really,” she admits, but she places her arm through his anyway.

“You made a promise. You’re not leaving me alone,” Katniss reminds him.

Peeta nods seriously at her. “I remember. And you, remember we’re in this together. Whatever it takes.”

Katniss nods back.

One deep breath later, Peeta pushes the door open. The lobby has been transformed since the last time Katniss saw it, small tables dotting the floor and white jacketed waiters roaming. And standing around, knocking back glasses of champagne, are their targets.

Katniss can see they’re among the last of the tributes to arrive, many of their fellow competitors already attached to a cluster of sponsors. “Are we too late?” she whispers, only just managing to keep a pleasant expression on her face.

Peeta looks at her sideways, his smile bordering on smug. “No way. They’ve been waiting for us.”

Katniss isn’t sure what he means as they stride onto the lobby floor, but then she notices heads turning and whispers following them as they make their entrance. Katniss puts on a winning smile. She had initially planned on circling the lobby for a bit, but Peeta seems to be steering them toward one table in particular. As they get closer, she understands why.

“Peeta! Katniss!” Finnick’s voice cuts through the hubbub of conversation, and even more heads turn. He’s standing with Annie and a small group of people who are watching their approach with eager looks. “May I introduce the Boccas and the Lovettes? They’ve been waiting anxiously to meet you.”

Finnick gestures to the woman to his right. “Mrs. Lovette, excuse me, Lauren, my apologies, sponsors my performances in the fall season. She’s been one of my biggest supporters for my entire career.” Mrs. Lovette latches on to Finnick’s hand. Katniss notices Annie’s expression harden slightly.

“Anything for you, Finnick darling. I would sponsor your other performances as well if the Boccas would let me, but they want you all to themselves!” Mrs. Lovette shoots a dirty look at the Boccas as she says this, and Mrs. Bocca raises her glass in mocking acknowledgement.

“You’ll just have to convince our Artistic Director to add another season, Lauren,” Finnick says in a placating voice.

“But we’re here to celebrate the future of ballet, and these two are the stars of tomorrow. You’ll be sponsoring them before you know it.” Annie gestures to Katniss and Peeta, and all attention turns to them again.

Mrs. Lovette drops Finnick’s hand and grabs Katniss’, gushing excitedly, “When he mentioned that he knew you, I told Finnick he absolutely _had_ to introduce us. I knew the second I saw that banner that you two were something special, and I was right!” Katniss is a little taken aback by Mrs. Lovette’s enthusiasm, and struggles to find the words for a response.

Peeta steps in, rescuing her. “I don’t know about me,” he says self-deprecatingly, “but I think we can all agree that Katniss is very special. It’s wonderful to meet you,” he continues, smiling warmly.

Katniss thinks her face must be identical to the woman’s, as they both stare at Peeta, impressed. He’s turned on the charm, and no one seems to be immune to its power, Katniss included.

“How long have you two been dancing together?” Mr. Bocca asks.

Katniss would be more invested in answering him if he hadn’t been flagging down a waiter while he spoke, but Peeta responds quickly. “Just since we were picked for the Prix, but it’s been an amazing experience.”

Mrs. Bocca looks surprised. “Only a few weeks then, that’s impressive. You looked quite comfortable together in the rehearsal footage.” Katniss acknowledges the compliment with a polite nod.

Peeta goes a step further. “Thank you, but well, it’s actually a little complicated. We’ve had a long journey.” The sponsors look intrigued.

“Should we tell them, Katniss?”

Katniss has no idea where Peeta’s going with this, but she can’t disagree with him, not now. Instead, she replies, trying to downplay her confusion, “If you want.” Peeta places his hand on top of hers where it’s tucked into his elbow.

“I’ve been wanting to dance with Katniss since we were kids. And when we were assigned different partners at the academy, I was devastated. But it gave me the courage to confess how I felt to her, that I’d loved her for years, and when I found out she felt the same way, well, we’ve been together ever since. So it was really a stroke of luck that we both ended up in the Prix. When Mr. A told us that he wanted us to be partners, I couldn’t believe it. We’re finally dancing together, and to have our first pas onstage at the Prix, in front of all of you, it’s a dream come true.”

Katniss listens to Peeta’s tale unfold, stiffening with each word. What is he doing? Katniss realizes this is what Mr. A and Peeta talked about while she wasn’t there, concocting a story that will draw the sponsors in.

She’s careful not to let the pleasant expression drop from her face, and with her dress she can’t find a way to kick him without drawing attention, so she settles for squeezing his elbow sharply. Peeta looks over at her, a raised eyebrow over his beaming smile his only response.

It appears to not matter how Katniss feels about this sudden redevelopment of their story, however, because the sponsors absolutely love it. “Together in real life! And you two finally get to partner each other for the Prix, how fantastic! It’s too good to be true!” Mrs. Lovette exclaims. _You have no idea_ , Katniss thinks to herself.

“I’m not surprised to hear this, dear, we all saw the way you looked at him onstage. You couldn’t have been more in love,” Mrs. Bocca confides to Katniss. This takes her aback. Katniss remembers the brief moment when she’d allowed genuine emotion to flicker through her stage smile, but she doesn’t recall the expression being particularly loving. More relief, that she wasn’t standing up there by herself.

Katniss realizes she should probably say something, that she’s been silent for too long. “Well, Peeta, he’s just so great. He’s always surprising me.” She thinks she’s able to keep the sarcasm out of her tone, but she can’t be sure. Peeta ducks his head, like he’s embarrassed by the compliment.

“What an intriguing development,” Finnick says thoughtfully. Annie is looking curiously between Peeta and Katniss, when someone calls Katniss’ name.

“There you are!” Johanna says pointedly.

“Johanna! How lovely to see you, may I say you were absolutely brilliant tonight?” Mr. Bocca smoothly places his arm around Johanna, who shoulders it off expertly.

“Thank you, Julio, but I’m actually here to steal these two tributes away from you. They’re very in demand, and I’ve promised to introduce them to some adoring fans. You’ve had them to yourselves long enough. Katniss? Peeta?”

Katniss lets Peeta make the apologies for abandoning the group so soon, and the thanks for your support, and the hopefully we’ll see you during class tomorrows. As soon as they’re a few steps away, Johanna leading them toward another group of excited faces, Katniss hisses through her teeth, “What the _fuck_ , Peeta?”

“You said whatever it takes, Katniss,” Peeta says back to her in a normal voice, smiling the whole while.

“Can you two please focus?” Johanna says, irritated. “My sponsors are actually good people, unlike Finnick’s, so please be charming.”

“Peeta’s always charming, even when he’s lying,” Katniss retorts.

“It’s not all a lie, Katniss,” Peeta says, ingratiatingly.

Katniss wants to roll her eyes at his stupid smile, but they’ve reached Johanna’s sponsors and so instead she settles for dropping her arm from Peeta’s under the guise of shaking hands.

“Tiler, Justin, I told you I’d get them over here,” Johanna says. Katniss is a little shocked to hear that Johanna can speak with a pleasant tone to her voice. “We’re so excited to meet you, it’s so rare to have a pas de deux in the competition, I can’t wait to see you two dance tomorrow. The rehearsal clips just weren’t enough,” Tiler says as she warmly grasps each of their hands.

“Thank you,” Katniss says, surprised. She didn’t expect any of the sponsors to actually care about the dancing.

“What’s it like, dancing _Firebird_? I’ve always loved the music but CBC never does the full ballet,” Justin asks.

“Oh, it was the same with me, I’d never seen it before the Prix, but I knew the music. It’s actually a really amazing pas, the choreography is beautiful, really different than anything than I’d danced before,” Katniss replies, grateful to be talking about something she can actually speak about fairly eloquently.

She spends the rest of their time with Johanna’s sponsors talking only about ballet, Peeta interjecting a comment occasionally. By the time Madame T pulls them away to be introduced to another group of sponsors, Katniss feels calmer, back on solid ground.

“You look like you want to kill me a little less,” Peeta whispers as Madame leads them to where Mr. A is waiting with more people they have to impress. Katniss meets his eyes and blinks at him, not trusting herself to say anything here, where they can be overheard.

“Later,” she finally says, before turning to introduce herself to the man Mr. A is pushing forward.

The rest of the reception turns into a blur of faces, names, smiles, handshakes. Peeta standing behind her, hand on the small of her back, I’m doing this for my sister, I can overcome the shadow of my brother, dancing together has been a dream come true, our love will really show onstage, we are the special ones, we have something the other tributes could never have.

Katniss can’t remember the last time she smiled so much when she wasn’t performing, then reminds herself this is a performance in itself. By the time Madame gauges they’ve met every sponsor worth meeting, even Peeta’s charm is flagging, and they’re hustled into a car before they can undo anything they’ve achieved that evening.

Once they’re moving, Peeta turns to Katniss. “Okay, so I know you’re angry, and I should have told you, but Mr. A—”

Katniss stops him with a sharp look and a raised hand. “Later.”

Peeta looks around, confused as to when later could be if not now, but his response is cut off by the intensity of Katniss’ glare. The rest of the car ride is spent in silence, stony on Katniss’ part, apologetic on Peeta’s.

Back at the academy, Katniss stalks down the hallways, leaving Peeta no choice but to follow her. It’s so late the lights are dimmed and by the time Katniss reaches her destination, Peeta’s left following the sound of her heels as they click on the sprung wood floor of their studio.

“What are we doing here, Katniss?” Peeta’s voice is resigned, like he’s already lost the fight they’re about to have. Katniss doesn’t answer him, just flips on the music for their pas, and gestures at him expectantly. “You want me to dance?”

Katniss stares back at him, not speaking, kicking off her heels. She isn’t sure this is going to work, but she can’t talk to him right now. She needs to channel her emotions through something, and since words aren’t an option for her, then this is the only other alternative.

“Fine, sure. Let’s dance.” Peeta tears his jacket off in frustration, throwing it on a barre, marking through his turns that start the pas.

Neither of them is warm, and nothing is full-out, and her dress isn’t ideal for dancing in, but Katniss is soothed by the movements, by the familiarity of the choreography, by forcing her brain to focus on something other than her anger, or if she’s being honest with herself, her fear of where the lie ends, and where the truth begins.

As Katniss steps into her arabesque, and Peeta settles his hands on her waist, she’s able to look back at him, to meet his eyes. They still don’t speak, but she can tell that dancing is having the same effect on him that it is on her. They’re back in familiar territory, back to the trust they have that they’ve only truly found while dancing.

But an unintended consequence of the evening makes itself clear a few moments later. Katniss had never really noticed just how much of the pas is spent with Peeta’s arms around her, staring into his eyes, but now it’s all she can focus on.

Peeta seems to realize the same thing, and his eyes flick away, like they used to, instead of meeting hers, and Katniss says her first word since they started dancing.

“No.”

His eyes come back to hers, and she tightens her grip on his hand, to make him understand that he can’t leave her now, that they can’t go back to where they were before this, that no matter what they do outside of the pas to win, that when they dance they must be together, focused, as one.

Peeta nods, understanding, and only then are they able to move on, Katniss coming up to passé, his hands coming up to support her, and as she cambrés back, she lets all of her weight fall, trusting in him to keep her up. And he does.

They finish the pas in silence, Peeta left standing alone in the middle of the studio as the music ends. He looks over to where Katniss stands over by the barres, and says simply, “I’m sorry. I should have told you before we went in.”

Katniss walks back to where he stands, and comes to a stop a few feet from him. “You said it wasn’t all a lie.”

“I did say that,” Peeta says, carefully watching Katniss’ face. Katniss wants to ask him what part, if _I’d loved her for years_ is true, and if it is, what that means, but instead takes another step, closer to him. She's letting it go, moving forward.

“If we’re in love, then we need to dance like we are.”

Peeta looks surprised at her response, maybe that she isn’t pressing him on the truth. After a moment, he lets out a relieved sigh, and asks, “Again?”

Katniss nods, and goes to turn the music on. They'll stay there all night if they have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [_Flames of Paris_ male variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yM5PQTwbnMM)
> 
> [The Queen of the Dryads variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yI4hN1AiyRQ)
> 
> [ _The Dying Swan_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-T2UeKKac-s)
> 
> The names of the sponsors come from dancers from ABT and NYCB - [Julio Bocca](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yh9blFBs2k8), [Lauren Lovette](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTEmzNxb530), [Tiler Peck](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Div4Q84-W0), [Justin Peck](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KqPDiyXjTbc).


	10. Chapter 10

The problem with dancing like you’re in love, Katniss realizes, is that she has no idea how to do it. But now here she is, in the last few hours before the competition, the night slipping away, trying to figure out how to dance like she’s in love with her partner.

Before Peeta, she’d only partnered Gale. She trusts Gale, and they’ve known each other since his mother told her to put her hands above her head and pretend she was a tree, but she can’t describe their comfortable rapport as love. The only person Katniss knows she loves for sure is Prim, which isn’t much help for the situation in which Katniss currently finds herself.

They’ve marked through the pas three times now, and no flashes of inspiration are coming. As a small consolation, the repetition has erased any traces of anger Katniss had left. She’s still curious about Peeta’s motivations, and still feels slightly betrayed, but she’s pushed that to the back of her mind. She can’t help feeling a little contrite about the depths of her anger before, now that her emotions have cooled.

“If only we were doing _Swan Lake_ ,” she mutters as she marks through a grand jeté, Peeta pretending to lift her.

“What do you mean?” Peeta asks.

“I’m just saying,” Katniss prepares for a whip turn, “this would be a lot easier if our pas was about two people, or one person and one bird, who have actual feelings for each other.”

Peeta stops her before she can complete the turn.

“That’s it.”

“What’s it?” Katniss can’t tell what Peeta’s thinking.

“Well we can’t exactly just do _Swan Lake_ tomorrow, surprise, enjoy the White Swan pas de deux, ignore where it says _The Firebird_ in the program and that red tutu she’s wearing?”

Katniss gives him a look.

“What did they say was the strongest thing about our pas after dress?” Peeta continues. “Our connection. They already see something there. And I let you go free at the end of the pas. What if the reason I let you go . . .” he trails off, seeing that Katniss has picked up where he’s going with this.

“Is you fall in love with a bird. So we play up what we already have?”

Peeta shrugs, at a loss for any better idea. “Just, let it all go. Don’t hold back.”

Katniss is about to protest that she doesn’t hold back, that she pushes herself farther than she thought possible every rehearsal, but stops herself. Because there is always more to give.

Peeta goes to start the music from the beginning, but Katniss stops him. “Just turn it off, I can’t think on tempo. We know it, we don’t need the music.”

Katniss counts under her breath at first, kneeling as Peeta holds both of her hands captive. “Six, seven, look at me, yes.” Without music, they let balances stretch, finding moments in the choreography that usually go by too quickly. Like so many things this night, one minor shift, and everything changes, takes on new meaning.

Katniss lets herself be drawn in, giving herself over to the feelings each step evokes, drawing on their connection as Peeta supports her, turns her, lifts her slightly, letting her slide down his body as he lowers her slowly, carefully, to the ground. They’re so close she can feel his chest against her back as he breathes.

“There.”

Peeta looks up, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “What’s that?” he asks.

“The look on your face there, that was good. You looked, you know, loving,” Katniss says, stepping forward so Peeta can chase her.

“Right,” Peeta says, sounding a little flustered as he turns to follow her.

For their next lift, she’s pressed against Peeta’s side. The choreography has her looking away, but as he turns them, she instead looks straight at Peeta, imploring him, Peeta gazing back at her, and Katniss feels a spark, a something, and she knows that whatever it is they’re doing, it’s working.

“That felt good,” Katniss says once she finishes marking her temps levés and coming back to Peeta, who’s staring at an imaginary feather like it holds the secrets of the universe. “Okay, that’s enough,” she says as she smacks him in the chest.

“Sorry,” Peeta says as he drops his hands, a small grin on his face, “just trying to get it right.”

“What do you think?” Katniss asks.

Peeta thinks for a moment, considering their reflections. “You’re right, it felt good. The way you looked at me, it was,” he pauses, turning to face her. “There was something there. Something real.”

“I know, I felt it too.” Katniss looks at him in the mirror, afraid that if she looks at him directly, it will be too much.

Peeta looks like he’s about to go on, like he’s on the verge of saying something more, but instead drops his eyes to the floor. “Did you want to go again?"

Katniss lets the moment pass. With so little time left before the competition, she doesn’t want to disrupt the tenuous balance she and Peeta have achieved for now.

“Yeah. Again.”

Three runthroughs later, they’re feeling stronger, but they’ve faded too much to continue. “After dress I thought that was it,” Katniss yawns, “that we wouldn’t be running it again before the Prix.”

“Sorry,” Peeta says as he picks up his jacket. “Although I don’t know if you can blame me completely. You were the one with the brilliant idea of conveying love through dance.”

Katniss curtsies, bending down far enough to pick up her heels. She’s about to respond, but another yawn stops her. Peeta raises his eyebrows.

“Sorry. But I don’t think I’m the first person to come up with the idea of love in ballet, I think that’s kind of the point. I mean, of ballet.”

Peeta acknowledges her point, and holds the door of the studio open, letting Katniss go through. She walks with her arms wrapped around herself, heels hanging from the tips of her fingers. She’s surprised when Peeta places his jacket on her shoulders, saying she looked cold, but it makes her think.

“So what’s it like? Our relationship?” Katniss asks, keeping her voice light. Peeta looks concerned.

“Katniss, if you’re still mad at me I completely understand, but I thought we—”

Katniss cuts him off, a rueful smile on her face. “No, I mean, apparently we’ve been together for years. What are we like? Together.”

Peeta smiles a little, relieved. He thinks for a minute. “Everyone is jealous of us. I mean, they were already jealous of you, because you’re you, but now they’re jealous of me because I’m with you. Even though we aren’t partners in class, we have the best lifts of anyone. When we fight, it lasts for days, but we make up quickly when it happens. We always stand next to each other at barre. Prim _loves_ me.”

Katniss laughs. “That sounds about right.”

They’ve reached her room, and Katniss turns to Peeta, to wish him goodnight, only to find him looking apologetic once more. “I am sorry, again. But, if it helps us win, then it’ll have been worth it, right?”

“Maybe. But, I guess you owe me one now,” Katniss says pointedly. “That’s fair,” Peeta says, looking confused.

“Win for me. Then we’ll be even.”

* * *

Katniss doesn’t know why she expected Plutarch to go easy on them for their last class before the Prix, in front of the sponsors, but any notions of that go out the window early on, after “May I have 32 dégagés from fifth en croix, please, with arms.” Deceptively simple, exhaustingly difficult seems to be the word of the day. And all with a smile.

A few of the sponsors wave at Katniss as the barres are pulled away before center, and she courteously acknowledges them while talking with Peeta, holding hands, their heads close together. She wonders if the sponsors would be so anxious for her attention if they knew she was explaining exactly how much she couldn’t wait to stop sucking up to people for their favor.

“I know what you mean, I’m almost glad to be going back to Twelve after today,” Peeta admits. “I never thought I’d miss the academy, or just taking a normal class, but I just want a day where I don’t have to be on.”

Katniss remembers what Johanna told her, about the corps offers, and realizes she never told Peeta. “You might not get that chance, if you’re lucky. Or unlucky, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

Plutarch is clapping, calling them all together for adagio, so Katniss mutters, “I’ll tell you after class,” and smiles out the audience, casting a wide net, hoping to charm as many potential sponsors as possible. She knows it’s probably pointless, no amount of pull with the judges will help them if they perform badly tonight, but if just one sponsor mentions how much they’re impressed by the tributes from District Twelve to a judge, then it will all have been worth it.

Center is more difficulty from Plutarch, an adagio that involves promenades in développé side, a petit allegro of gargouillades, sissones, and entrechats that travels so quickly Katniss hides herself in one of the back rows, and ending with sixteen fouettés for the girls and for the boys, sixteen entrechat six. It’s all Katniss can do not to collapse on the floor after reverence and applauding.

Instead, she gathers her things, acting like she’s barely fazed, and walks offstage. Then she collapses. Peeta finds her there, just offstage behind one of the wings.

“I’m also glad that’s the last time I’ll have class with Plutarch,” Peeta says with relief. “My knee was fine before class but that last combination—no no, it’s okay now, it just twinged a little,” he says in response to Katniss’ look of horror. “What were you saying earlier?”

“I’ll explain on the way, Cinna and Portia will be waiting.” Katniss lets Peeta pull her up, and as they walk to one of the large rehearsal rooms, she explains about Snow potentially offering a corps contract to the winner, and the potential blacklisting that could occur if they turn it down.

Peeta shakes his head once she’s done. “That’s just cruel.”

Katniss looks at him, confused. “Cruel? I know it’s not exactly fair to have someone make a decision on the spot that affects the rest of their lives, but it’s a corps contract with CBC, you’d have to be nuts to turn it down.”

“I would,” Peeta states simply.

“Are you serious right now?” Katniss can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Peeta, it’s the best company in the country, I know you said Mr. A had a bad experience, but just imagine what it could do for your career!”

“It’s not for me, that’s not the career I want. I’ll be perfectly happy back in Twelve, thanks. But I’ll come watch you when you perform, if you want.” Peeta smirks a little at the look on Katniss’ face.

Katniss rolls her eyes. “I don’t know why we’re even talking about this, there’s no way Snow will want us in his company, even if we do win. Come on, they’re waiting.”

When they reach the rehearsal room, Cinna and Portia are standing outside. “There you two are, we’ve been fighting off people who want to use this room for ages.” Portia hurries them inside.

“So what exactly did you two want to show us? Please tell me you’ve got those partnered pirouettes down,” Cinna says warningly.

“No, no, those are fine, it’s just um, well,” Katniss trails off. She has no idea how to explain this.

“We wanted to change some of our character’s motivations,” Peeta says. Cinna narrows his eyes.

Seeing this, Katniss plunges ahead. “Why don’t you just watch and see what you think?”

Portia glances at Cinna, and then gestures for them to go ahead.

“Like last night, don’t hold back,” Katniss whispers to Peeta as she passes him, walking to the side. Peeta nods, his eyes not leaving hers as he starts to turn.

Katniss has no idea what Cinna and Portia are thinking as they watch the pas, but Katniss can feel her connection with Peeta, to the point where she’s dancing with abandon, jumping without waiting to feel Peeta’s hands on her waist, knowing that he’ll be there to catch her.

When it’s over, they look expectantly at their coaches, hoping to find approval. Instead, Cinna and Portia just look confused. “What exactly was it about your characters that you changed?” Portia asks.

Katniss and Peeta glance at each other. “Uh, we thought it might be more interesting if Ivan let the Firebird go because of, um, love,” Peeta ventures. Portia chuckles while Cinna grins a little.

“What?” Katniss has no idea why they’re reacting this way. She thought they’d be angry with a last-minute change.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, we thought that’s how you had always been playing it, from the beginning. I mean, the way you two look at each other, it made perfect sense, and it is an accepted interpretation.” Cinna couldn’t sound more amused if he tried.

“Right, I mean, that was lovely. Beautiful, I could really feel what you two were trying to do. But, it’s not new.” Portia is looking at them both with an earnest smile.

“Oh.” Peeta sounds uncertain.

Portia continues, “But I can really tell you worked on those pirouettes, they seem much stronger.” It’s almost a question, like she’s trying to please them instead of the other way around.

“Did you want us to do it again?” Katniss asks to cover the silence. She can’t think of anything else to say.

“No,” says Cinna. “If you do you might over rehearse and lose what you have, now that you’re aware of what you’re doing. I don’t want you running this before tonight, that’s an order. Take a nap, Peeta, go to PT, do whatever you need to do.”

He stands and waits for Portia to join him. “We’ll see you two before the Prix. Until then, no more dancing for you two today.”

They leave, and Katniss and Peeta are left standing alone in the middle of the studio. Eventually Peeta says, awkwardly, “So I guess we stayed up late for nothing last night.”

Katniss can’t help but let out a laugh. “I mean, you did say to play up what we already had. And they did like it?”

“Yeah.” Peeta exhales, looking unsure. “What are you going to do now? I would say run it again but I really think they’d know if we did.”

Katniss shrugs. “Probably take a nap. The couch in my dressing room looks really comfortable. Are you going to go to PT?”

Peeta looks down at his knee. “I probably should. Just to be sure.”

“Come on, I’ll go with you.”

As they walk down the hallway, Peeta takes Katniss’ hand. She looks up at him, confused. “You never know, there might be a rogue sponsor backstage,” he whispers, grinning. Katniss shakes her head, rolling her eyes a little, but she also can’t keep a little smile from her face. She’ll never tell him, but it’s pleasant, walking hand in hand, feeling connected when they cannot dance.

* * *

One quick adjustment later, Katniss leaves Peeta in the PT room, where an animated Russian woman is examining his knee with an intense look on her face. Returning to her dressing room, Rue is nowhere to be found, and Katniss curls up on the couch, which is as comfortable as it looks.

She can’t sleep.

In the whirlwind of the last few days, she’d almost forgotten the reason she’s here. But now that nothing stands between her and the moment that will decide the rest of her life, it’s all she can think about. What she’s done to get here, what Prim has done for her. Even Peeta. Knowing that one misstep, and any work they have done to win over the judges will have been for nothing. Knowing that so much is working against them, and still wanting, hoping, that they can win.

A small part of her is also whispering _it’s not all a lie_ over and over but she does her best to tamp that down.

Eventually Katniss gives sleep up as a lost cause, and gets up to start getting ready. She eats a turkey sandwich, her pre-performance ritual, and takes a quick shower to warm up. When she steps back into the dressing room, she finds Rue, who’s sitting in front of the mirror, starting to put on her makeup.

“Someone’s waiting at the stage door for you,” Rue says, shellacking on foundation.

“What?” Katniss asks, confused.

“They just called over the intercom thing? I didn’t know how to talk back.”

Katniss can’t figure it out either, so she throws on some street clothes and goes to find the stage door.

Two wrong turns later, she walking down a long hallway, when she hears her name, called by a familiar voice.

“Prim?”

Her sister steps around a tall desk, and runs toward her, throwing herself at Katniss, who has stopped walking in shock. For a moment, all Katniss can do is savor the feeling of Prim’s hug, having her sister in her arms. “What are you doing here? No one told me you were coming.”

Prim beams up at Katniss. “I am technically the District Twelve representative.”

“You are, I don’t know how I could have forgotten.” Katniss releases her sister and holds her at arm’s length, drinking the sight of her in. “Oh my little swan, I missed you.”

“I thought I was a lame duck?” Prim asks, grinning slyly.

“Oh, your injury, how are you?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Prim reassures her, then looks down the hallway over Katniss’ shoulder. Her voice drops. “Mom’s here.” Katniss stiffens a little, and then realizes her mother is behind her, that that’s who Prim's looking at.

“Hello, Katniss.”

Katniss turns, and sees her mother for the first time in months.

“Hi, Mom.” They exchange a perfunctory hug, which Prim watches sadly. Katniss has never had a good relationship with her mother, not since Katniss had to raise Prim on her own when her mother’s will to take care of them deteriorated after her father’s death. Leaving for the academy was a blessing in some ways, but Katniss worried over Prim back at home every day until she was accepted.

“Did you want to see my dressing room?”

Prim nods excitedly, and showers Katniss with questions about the Prix as she leads them back. Katniss answers each one in turn, but stops in her tracks when Prim asks, “Are you really dating Peeta now?”

“What? How . . .” Katniss tries to ask, but Prim is already talking over her.

“Everyone on the train here was talking about it, and we saw a video they made of your rehearsals, you guys look so happy together!”

“Oh, um.” Everyone on the train? Talking about them? Katniss can’t decide what to tell Prim, but to her relief, they’ve arrived at her dressing room, and she uses the excuse of warning Rue people are coming in to avoid the question.

Prim fawns over the Firebird tutu, and begs to be allowed to stay backstage to watch Katniss put her makeup on, but is pulled away by their mother, after being reminded they have a reservation at the restaurant upstairs. “But we’ll see you after, Katniss! We’ll be the ones cheering the loudest for you! Merde!” Prim gives Katniss one last hug, and then she’s gone.

Katniss takes a deep breath. Seeing Prim has only made her more nervous, knowing that someone she loves is in the audience.

After a quick warmup, Katniss begins to make herself performance ready. Hair, twisted into a bun on the top of her head. Makeup, painted on, arched and birdlike. She’s just stepped into her tutu when Madame Trinket knocks on the door. “Katniss!” she trills. “We’re just having a quick team meeting before you head to the stage!”

Pulling on warm ups, she follows Madame to a small room where Cinna, Portia, Mr. A, and Peeta are already waiting. Peeta, like her, is half in costume. “Good, now that we’re all here,” Mr. A says, “first of all, well done last night. You two are the talk of the Capitol, and I personally had at least five people tell me they talked about you to the judges. I know it’s supposed to be solely a performance based competition, but we all know that’s not true.” Cinna snorts.

“With all that taken into consideration, a lot will ride on your performance tonight, so don’t fuck it up.” Mr. A glares at them.

“Language, Haymitch,” Madame T sighs.

“Cinna and Portia said you ran it once for them today and it was clean, how do you feel?” Mr. A continues, ignoring Madame T.

“Good. Ready,” Peeta says, glancing at Katniss.

“Yeah. We’ve got this.” Katniss tries to keep her voice from wavering, and just manages.

“All right. Any last words, coaches?”

Portia looks like she’s about to launch into a list of notes, but Cinna speaks before she can. “Just dance how you feel. We know you have the choreography down, but if the audience can feel your dancing the way we can, then you’ve got this competition in the bag.”

“Best advice I’ve ever heard. Effie?”

“Just be your best, darlings.” Madame looks like she’s about to cry.

“Okay then, whatever Effie said,” Mr. A says, and then turns serious. “Look, I may have made things difficult for you two, by giving you this piece to dance. But you’ve done me and the academy proud, and I’m glad to have you two representing District Twelve.” Katniss flushes, uncomfortable with the praise, but also feeling strengthened by their faith in her and Peeta.

“Now go win this thing.”

They part with hugs and merdes all around, and then Katniss and Peeta are left alone to walk back to their dressing rooms.

“How do you feel?” Peeta asks.

“Um, nervous. But good. My sister’s going to be in the audience so I want to make her proud of me.”

“Prim’s here? That’s great, Katniss.” Peeta looks genuinely happy for her.

“Will you have anyone out there?” Katniss asks, and belatedly realizes how loaded the question is.

“Oh, no. Probably not,” Peeta says, not looking at her.

Katniss’ heart breaks a little for him. “Well, you’ll hear Prim cheering you on, I promise.” Peeta smiles a little in response.

They separate once they reach Katniss’ dressing room, planning to meet at the stage once they finish getting ready. Katniss pulls on her shoes, broken in just enough to soften the landings on her jumps but still hard enough to handle the quick relevés required of the Firebird, and places a stitch in her ribbons to keep them from coming untucked.

Katniss stands, and takes one final look in the mirror. She looks the part of a competitor on the outside, shoes on, makeup applied, tutu perfectly flat around her, but on the inside, she’s not so sure. All she can do is breathe and trust, now. Trust in herself, trust in Peeta, trust that they can do what they set out to do. That they can win.

When Katniss arrives at the stage, it’s packed, a discordant group of costumes from so many different ballets, tributes carving out small areas of space to get one last chance to practice turns or if they can, jumps.

She sees Peeta going through his turns onstage, and walks over to him. He sees her coming, and drops out of his pirouette. “Don’t ask me how I’m doing, I’m too nervous, I can’t tell,” Katniss says, seeing the question in his eyes. “Can we just dance?” Peeta nods. She needs to feel their connection, her touchstone, the only thing keeping her from giving herself over completely to her nerves.

They do whip turn after whip turn, and then saut de chat after saut de chat. There’s no room to attempt a Bluebird, so they don’t even try. Katniss breathes a little easier.

They can hear the audience, separated from them only by the fabric of the curtain, and the tension onstage is so palpable, Katniss feels like she might choke on it. It almost comes as a relief when the stage manager asks them to clear the stage.

Katniss pauses as she turns to walk into the wings. She knows what would happen now, back in Twelve, but here, she’s not sure. Are the traditions the same in the other districts? Does the fact that they are all, now, competitors supersede ritual? She can see the other tributes eyeing each other, perhaps wondering the same thing.

It’s Rue who decides it. She steps forward, pinky fingers extended, smiling at them all. Katniss joins her, hooking her own pinky around Rue’s, holding her other pinky up for Peeta to take. One by one, the other tributes join them, until they all stand in a circle center stage.

She doesn't know who starts it, but then again, you’re not supposed to know. Katniss accepts the squeeze from Rue and passes it on to Peeta, looking around at the students who stand with her. In this moment, they are not tributes, they are only dancers, continuing the tradition that has been passed on from generation to generation, an appeasement to the ballet gods.

“Merde,” they all murmur at each other, once the circle is complete. They break apart, moving toward the wings, stopping for one last pirouette, one last saut de basque. Now, the competition begins. Now, their fates are in their own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The Prix, the pas, the end.
> 
> [White Swan pas de deux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXUIOY8uZZk)
> 
> [Dégagé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eElTfdhdg5g), [gargouillade](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FZxlLtCqsI&t=0m20s), [sissone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yHAQkM2s2o), [fouettés](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4_NPf95NKU), [entrechat six](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4BVoGcdjO4&t=1m24s), [saut de basque](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ii7FLod9Xkg).


	11. Chapter 11

The curtain rises, the audience applauds, and Katniss feels like she’s going to throw up.

“Why do we live in Twelve again?” she moans quietly to Peeta from their little corner where they watched the gala. Caesar is out on stage, giving a shorter version of his speech from the night before, welcoming all present, and all watching from their homes, to the Prix.

“What?” Peeta asks her, distracted by Caesar's introduction of the judges, who are sitting in the middle of the house. Katniss can just see them behind their little table, small lights illuminating their faces from below.

“If we lived in One, we’d be going first and it would be over in five minutes. But no, we have to go last. We have to watch twenty-two perfect variations and then we have to go out there and flaunt our rebellion in Snow’s face. Why are we doing this? Is it too late, can we not do a pas?” Katniss is talking too fast, too loud. Someone shushes her.

“Katniss. Breathe.” Peeta grabs her hands, breathing in and out at a pace Katniss instinctively follows. Slowly, slowly, her panic subsides.

“Better?” Katniss nods, wide-eyed. Caesar’s talking about how they’re the future.

“The only thing we can control is the way we dance. So it doesn’t matter how perfect everyone else is. All that matters is that we are.” Peeta’s voice is low, but just the sound of it and the feeling of his hands in hers is calming. Katniss can tell he’s nervous too, but somehow he’s holding it together better than she is.

“Right. Perfection. No big deal.”

“Exactly,” Peeta says, ignoring her sarcasm.

Katniss looks back to the stage, where Caesar is waxing nostalgically over this year’s tributes as an introduction to the video that played during the gala. “And of course, the pair the entire country is buzzing about, partners in more than just pas de deux, the faces of the Prix de Panem, the tributes from District Twelve, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!”

Katniss and Peeta turn to each other at the same time. “Entire country?” he whispers, looking alarmed.

Katniss has no idea how to react. “Prim did say everyone on the train on her way here was talking about us,” she says uncertainly.

The lights go down as the video plays, and judging by the reaction of the audience, Caesar wasn’t exaggerating. There’s sighing, actual sighing, whenever they appear on screen together, and even scattered applause when Katniss smiles at Peeta during their onstage rehearsal. Katniss can only imagine what’s going on with the people watching from home.

“This is good,” Katniss realizes out loud. Peeta looks away from the screen and back at her.

“It is? Because I was getting ready to apologize again.”

“No, listen to them, they love us already. They _love_ us. They’re going to lose their minds when we dance. So, um, no need to apologize. We’ll have to thank Mr. A, he knew what he was doing,” Katniss admits.

“Right,” Peeta says, looking back to the stage.

Caesar’s back in the spotlight, and Glimmer’s being ushered to one of the downstage wings. The Prix is about to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please wish this year’s tributes the very best of luck, and welcome to the Prix de Panem!”

There’s applause, then as it dies down, the theater fills with a sense of anticipatory excitement. A whisper to Glimmer, and she walks out on stage.

Somehow time manages to drag and go by in an instant. One moment, Katniss is hoping that they’ll just get on with it and start the music. She blinks, and then Marvel is bowing at the front of the stage, and Clove’s preparing to make her entrance.

There’s a connection, between the audience and the dancers, pushing them on, feeding their energy. The mistakes, when they come, are so small, they’re almost impossible to notice.

Cato seems to have gotten over his jumping problem, because his cabrioles are almost as high as Thresh’s. The boy from Four is no Finnick, but his Ali variation thrills the audience. The girl from Seven manages to do her best at keeping the audience awake during _Sylphides_.

Katniss relevés over and over, keeping her feet warm, leaning over to stretch out her legs. Peeta walks in little circles, testing his knee, occasionally practicing his arms, checking in with Katniss with a raised eyebrow. Katniss gives him a thumbs up.

A Siegfried and a White Swan walk by them and Katniss realizes there’s only a few variations left before they dance. Her nerves, which she’d managed to forget about while watching the dancing, come roaring back in full force. She breathes out slowly, fanning herself with her hands, which does nothing to combat her panic.

Remembering how Peeta had calmed her before, she turns to him, only to find him facing her, a look of resolve on his face. “What?” Katniss asks, her worry only adding to her nerves. “Is it your knee?”

“I need to tell you something,” Peeta says, his voice wary.

Katniss waits for him to continue, but then Peeta shakes his head and turns away, shaking out his legs.

“Oh come on, don’t do this to me,” Katniss agonizes. “Is it something about the pas? Are my jumps too slow and you waited until now to tell me because you couldn’t do it before?”

Peeta turns to face her, shaking his head. “No, it’s not about the pas.” He doesn’t continue, and Katniss can’t decide whether to force it out of him, or put it out of her mind until after they dance.

Katniss can hear Siegfried’s music playing, and sees Rue and Thresh being escorted to the wings. “It’s almost us, just tell me now, so we can get it over with and dance.”

“It wasn’t Mr. A’s idea,” Peeta says quietly. Katniss, her mind already racing, tries to figure out what he means. “What wasn’t?”

Peeta looks around awkwardly, like someone else will be able to explain this better than him. Eventually he gestures between them, pointing from Katniss back to himself. Katniss suddenly understands.

“The strategy? Us, together?”

“It was my idea.”

Katniss can’t understand why Peeta needs to confess this to her, now, of all times. “Okay, it was your idea. It’s working. And if it helps us win, I will give you all the credit," she says matter-of-factly.

“No, Katniss, that’s not—” Peeta is cut off by one of the Prix volunteers tapping Katniss on the shoulder.

“District Twelve?” They both nod, startled.

“Come with me.”

Katniss’ stomach lurches. She walks around the barre, following the volunteer over to where Thresh stands, Peeta a few steps behind her. Rue is running out onstage, her dress fluttering behind her. Katniss can feel the panic rising again.

“Hey. We’ve got this.” Peeta takes Katniss’ hands, looking deep into her eyes again.

“What were you saying?” she asks, trying to mimic his breathing.

Peeta shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s um, nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. And,” Katniss looks over to where Rue is curtsying, “I need something to distract me. So just, say it.” She looks at him seriously. One tribute left.

Peeta takes a deep breath. Thresh is walking purposefully out of the wings. The music starts.

“Um, okay. I said it wasn’t all a lie, because it’s not. Because it’s all true. Except for you know, the obvious part. But the rest of it. I mean, maybe it’s not love, because it's not something I can define, but like you said, there is love when you dance, and I’ve never felt anything like the way I feel when I dance with you. Or when I’m around you. Or when I see you across the studio. Or when I when I was eleven years old and you let me help you.” Peeta’s voice is getting stronger as he continues.

“And I know this is the worst possible time to tell you this, but maybe it’s better this way, because if I screw this pas up, you’ll probably never speak to me again. But I just needed to tell you. That it wasn’t all a lie.”

Thresh is bowing. Katniss is stunned.

She’s known, for weeks now, that there is something between them, that their kiss wasn't just Juliet's longing, that it’s more than just partners, dancing, but hearing Peeta’s confession, it’s made real. And in understanding the depths of Peeta’s feelings, she begins to understand hers.

He’s still holding her hands.

She opens her mouth to respond, but the volunteer is tapping Peeta on the shoulder.

“I’ll see you out there,” Peeta says, and slowly leans forward and kisses her gently on the cheek. Katniss’ eyes flutter shut, and then Peeta is gone.

Katniss lets herself breathe, one, two breaths, and then she hears their music. This is it.

Katniss opens her eyes. She feels calm, composed, her nerves have disappeared. _It’s not all a lie_. She walks back to the wing she makes her entrance from, and watches Peeta turn.

And then she’s jumping onstage, the Firebird making her entrance. She can feel the emotions stirring within her, stronger than ever before, but she channels them into her dancing.

Katniss cherishes every step, every jump while she’s alone onstage, knowing this is the last time she will be performing that step, that jump, knowing the audience is watching her every move.

And now, she is not alone, stepping forward into an arabesque, Peeta’s hands settling firmly on her waist. She looks back at him, their eyes meeting.

The music cuts out.

Katniss inhales sharply, but manages to keep her reaction from showing on her face. She hears someone in the audience gasp, she can feel Peeta tense behind her, and for the space of a breath, she allows herself to panic.

Then she keeps going.

It’s a split-second decision, one she’s sure she will regret, but Katniss keeps dancing. She beats her arms, and struggles to get out of Peeta’s hold. Peeta, taking his cue from her, turns her in a promenade, and they continue to dance, in silence.

Katniss is suddenly grateful for the night before, running the pas without music, preparing for this disaster, without even realizing they were preparing. She takes her cues from last night now, highlighting the moments they found in the choreography, letting them linger onstage. She meets Peeta’s gaze, their connection so strong it’s almost tangible, holding arabesques for what seems like days, the tension reaching all the way through Katniss’ fingers, before the release.

They float through the lifts, Katniss looking down at the audience from atop Peeta’s shoulder, arching her back as Peeta lifts her up, looking into Peeta’s eyes as he pulls her to his side. The only sounds are their breathing, and the sound of Katniss’ pointe shoes on the stage, echoing in the theater.

What feels like both seconds and days later, they come to the end. Katniss pulls a feather from her tutu and presents it to Peeta before she leaps away, into the wings.

The second she’s offstage, Katniss runs to the downstage wing where Peeta will exit, ignoring the hushed exclamations from the clusters of tributes waiting for their final bow. Peeta looks wonderingly at the feather, holding it like it’s made of gold, before he turns and runs offstage. He stops just in front of Katniss, and they stare at each other, breathing hard, waiting. Was continuing without music a mistake? Have they just ruined any chance they have of winning?

For a long, tortuous moment, nothing happens. Then one person starts clapping, then another, until the entire audience is applauding, louder than they have been for anyone else. Like they had been under a spell, and now they have been released.

Katniss lets out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Peeta holds out his left hand to Katniss, the relief on his face evident, his grin as wide as she's ever seen it. She stares at it, uncomprehending, until she remembers they have to bow. She places her left hand in his, and he escorts her onto the stage.

The roar when they appear is deafening. Katniss smiles as she walks, with pride, with relief, with joy, acknowledging the bravas coming from each tier. They stand center stage, soaking in the applause. Katniss curtsies deeply, while Peeta bows behind her. She takes a step to the side, turning and curtsying to her partner, thanking him, hand over her heart.

As she comes up from her second curtsy, Peeta steps forward and takes her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, a kiss Katniss feels all the way down to her toes.

The applause, somehow, gets even louder.

Katniss knows she’s supposed to let Peeta escort her offstage now, but all she can do is look into his eyes and feel the emotions, the one she’d channeled so well into her dancing, start to overwhelm her.

“Let’s hear it for our tributes!” Caesar is back, his smile wide, his excitement contagious, saving Katniss the embarrassment of remaining frozen center stage. Peeta offers her his hand, and he walks her to the side, joining the rest of the tributes in a line that spans the width of the stage. One last bow, the audience rewarding them with applause, and the curtain falls.

Around them, their fellow competitors relax. Their work is done, all they can do now is wait.

Katniss only feels herself growing more agitated. She sees Peeta looking at her, his face a mixture of trepidation and excitement. She grabs his hand, and starts pulling him across the stage.

Tributes nod to them in respect as they pass, acknowledging the impossible situation they’d been placed in. To dance without music, it’s beyond comprehension.

Katniss keeps dragging Peeta, not looking back at him. She can tell by his stumbling walk that he’s confused about where she’s taking him, but allowing her to guide him anyway. When they reach her dressing room, she pushes him inside, then follows, pushing the door shut behind her.

They stare at each other.

Katniss breaks first. An uncontrollable grin spreads across her face, and she spreads her arms as if to say she cannot even begin to comprehend the last ten minutes, what has happened between them, what has happened to them, what they have done, together.

Peeta raises his eyebrows, but he’s smiling too.

“So, you think we’re gonna win?”

The fact that this is the first thing Peeta says to her, after everything that’s happened, makes Katniss drop her arms in exasperation, lunge forward, and kiss him.

Peeta responds enthusiastically, lifting her up off her pointes, holding her to him like he has so many times before. Only this time, it’s much more than a simple lift. It’s intense, the kiss, Katniss pouring everything she feels into it, and she can’t help but marvel at the way they fit together, even now, after everything. Eventually they pull apart, if only to catch their breath.

“I like dancing with you too, you know.” Katniss would be embarrassed at how insufficient her response to everything that they’ve just gone through is, but she can’t remember the last time she felt this good, this free.

“I guess I was wrong about you never speaking to me again,” Peeta says, the smile on his face as bright as the sun.

Katniss’ response is to lean in again, but at that moment the door is flung open, Mr. A looking around with more energy than Katniss has ever seen him display. Rolling his eyes, he calls over his shoulder, “I found them, they’re in here, fornicating.”

“Excuse me?” Madame T’s voice is higher than Katniss has ever heard it, and she rushes into the room, followed by Cinna and Portia. Katniss reluctantly extricates herself from Peeta’s embrace, turning to face their team. Cinna is looking at both of them, awed. Portia looks like she’s been crying.

Madame glares at Mr. A, and then turns her attention to Katniss and Peeta. “You two,” she says, her voice wobbling. Rushing forward, she gathers them both in a hug so tight, Katniss feels all her breath has been squeezed from her.

She meets Mr. A’s eyes over Madame’s shoulder, and the look on his face tells her everything she needs to know. Still, Katniss wants him to have to say it out loud. “How’d we do?” she manages to ask as Madame releases them.

“You did good, sweetheart.”

Katniss grins. Peeta takes her hand and gives it a tight squeeze.

“It was,” Portia pauses, at a loss for words. “You made us hear the music.”

Cinna leans toward them, taking each of their hands in his. “I am . . . so proud of you both. Not everyone could have done what you did, continuing on like that. I’m sure Snow expected you to fall apart, but you didn’t, and that shows how strong you two are. As dancers. But also as people.”

It may be the kindest thing anyone has ever said about her. All Katniss can do is step forward and hug him, whispering a grateful “Thank you,” in his ear.

Behind her, Peeta asks, “What do you mean Snow expected us to fall apart?”

Katniss breaks away from Cinna, confused. “Wait, what?”

Mr. A looks at them, the expression on his face suddenly grim. “I’d bet my life that he had your tape sabotaged. Or maybe he just told the booth to turn it off at a specific point. I already asked, they said it was technical difficulties, but I know Snow. This is what he does. He undermines, not in an overt way, he won’t throw acid in your eyes. But he wanted you rattled, he wanted you to fail. I promise you that.”

“But we didn’t,” Peeta says, apprehensive. “We didn’t fall apart.”

“No, you didn’t. And he’s not going to be happy, not with the way the crowd reacted, not even with the other two judges, if they found what you did impressive. Which it was. Not to mention you two are the darlings of the ballet world right now, they’re losing their minds over the thought of you two together.”

“We heard Caesar say something about that, but that can’t possibly be true, right? We talked to maybe forty people last night, nowhere close to an entire country’s worth,” Peeta says.

“They put the Prix video up for anyone to see,” Cinna explains. “And word travels fast among balletomanes. We’ve been hearing from people in every district. And let’s not forget, everyone in the country watched you dance just now.”

“But all of this is good for us, right?” Katniss asks.

Madame nods at her. "This will do wonders for your career, Katniss."

Mr. A paces for a second, comes to a decision. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you about this before, I didn’t want to jinx anything. But sometimes, if you win—”

Katniss breaks in. “Is this about the corps contract? Johanna already told me, we know.” Mr. A nods, looking serious.

“If he offers me a contract, I’m saying no,” Peeta says unhesitatingly.

“You may not have a choice, he might require both of you to sign. Or he’ll blacklist you across the country, although I’d like to see him try to control who gets picked in Twelve.”

“Katniss?” Peeta looks at her uneasily.

Katniss blinks at him, uncomprehending. “You want me to turn down a contract?”

“He might not even offer us one, why would he want us in his company? Just if he does, and if it has to be both of us . . .” Peeta trails off.

“It’s my career, Peeta,” Katniss says, incredulous.

“Snow’s going to retire soon anyway, and we still have two years left at the academy. Who’s to say he’ll still be at CBC by the time we finish? You can’t be blacklisted if he’s not there to enforce it. And we’re the darlings of the ballet world. We can go anywhere. You can go anywhere.”

“He does have a point, sweetheart,” Mr. A says, raising an eyebrow. Katniss considers this.

Peeta takes a step closer to her, speaking quietly. “I saw what that company with Snow in charge did to my mother. I couldn’t stand it if that happened to you. Or me.”

Katniss sees how intense the look in his eyes is, sees how he’s already beginning to flinch in expectation of her response, and realizes she can’t do this to him. Not after everything they’ve been through together. And if she’s being honest with herself, Katniss isn’t sure if she can be in the same room with the man who so brazenly sabotaged her, much less take direction from him, without taking a pointe shoe to his head. She can wait for CBC.

“Okay.”

It takes Peeta a second to realize what she’s said, and he looks at her disbelievingly. “But,” Katniss points at him severely. “Once Snow is gone, we join the company, and we dedicate our lives toward becoming principals.”

Peeta looks like he’s about to kiss her again, but under the watchful eyes of their team, he settles for picking her up and spinning her around. “I’ll get you to prima ballerina if it kills me,” he says, setting her down.

“I’m glad that’s settled,” Mr. A says with a touch of sarcasm.

There’s a quiet knock on the door, and Cinna pulls it open to find Prim looking around questioningly. “Is Katniss in here?”

“Prim!” Katniss pushes past Cinna and Portia to take her sister in her arms.

“You were amazing,” Prim says, her words muffled against Katniss’ side.

“I just hope I lived up to your expectations, District Twelve representative,” Katniss replies fondly.

“We’ll leave you alone,” Madame says, shooing Cinna and Portia out of the dressing room ahead of her. “Katniss, Peeta, they want you in the large rehearsal room so they can bring you to the stage once the judges have made their decisions.”

Prim, releasing Katniss, curtsies to Madame as she passes. “Mr. A,” she pipes up as he’s about to leave the room. “Do you think they’re going to win? Even without the music?”

Mr. A turns back. “If they don’t take the Grand Prix, I promise you, there will be riots in the streets.” Prim grins, Mr. A nods, and then they’re alone.

Katniss spots Peeta, standing awkwardly in a corner, trying not to intrude on the sisterly reunion, and smiles at him.

“Prim, have you met Peeta?” Prim shakes her head shyly, a rarity for her.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Prim.” Peeta takes her hand, bows over it.

“You were amazing too,” Prim blurts out.

“I don’t think I was as amazing as your sister, but thank you.” They share a knowing smile.

Katniss watches this scene unfold with narrowed eyes. “Okay, that’s enough, before you two get all cozy and team up on me. Let’s get you back to your seat before intermission ends so you can sit through whatever they’re putting on to keep you occupied while the judges decide our fate. What are they doing, anyway?”

Prim shrugs. “Something from some new choreographer, I think her name’s Paylor. I’ve never heard of her.”

“You’ll want to make sure you don’t miss it, then,” Katniss says, steering Prim out the door. “She could be the next big thing and you’ll want to tell everyone back at the academy about it.”

“Can’t I stay here with you?”

Katniss shakes her head, explaining, “I have to go wait with the other tributes. I think they want to make sure none of us die before the winner is announced.”

Turning, she sees Peeta nodding his head toward the rehearsal room, indicating that he’ll meet her there. Katniss goes to usher Prim back to where she can enter the house.

“The next time I see you, you’ll be a Prix winner,” Prim says as Katniss hugs her goodbye.

Katniss has a sudden lump in her throat. “I wouldn’t be here without you, Prim,” she manages to say, holding her sister tight. They stay like that until the lights dim, a sign intermission is almost over, and Katniss releases Prim, back to their mother.

The atmosphere in the rehearsal room is jovial, almost giddy. The relief of no longer having to compete, that everything is now in the hands of the judges, has left the tributes with nothing to divide them. Some are stretching, cooling down together, others are discussing their variations. Peeta has a group of admirers hanging on his every word about his thoughts when the music stopped.

Katniss starts heading over to him, but she’s waylaid by Clove and the girl from Five, whose name ends up being Lukida, a fact Katniss hadn’t bothered to learn until this moment.

She demurs when pressed on her reaction to the “disaster of epic proportions,” as Clove puts it, saying only, “I didn’t want to have to start over from the beginning,” and then asking Lukida about her Italian fouettés. No one speculates on who the winners will be.

Under the pretense of needing to cool down, Katniss excuses herself after a while, unable to shake the mindset of three weeks of competing in favor of being friendly. She parks herself on the floor against the mirrors, and shakes out her calves. Peeta detaches himself from his followers, and sits next to her. Katniss gives him a small, private smile.

“You certainly seem popular.”

“I just keep reminding myself that we might be dancing with them again someday, once we’ve left the academy. It can’t hurt to have allies,” Peeta says, flexing his injured knee. “They were asking if I’d really hurt myself that day I fell in class. I figured there was no point in lying now. They seemed pretty impressed.”

Katniss raises her eyebrows. “Look at you, working the crowd.” Peeta laughs.

They sit in silence for a while, eyes meeting occasionally, Katniss in a state of annoyance that they’re in a room full of people and she can’t have the conversation she wants to have, can’t act on the feelings she’s finally acknowledged. She’s about to give up on ever hearing the results, about to grab Peeta and pull him back to her dressing room to pick up where they left off, when there’s an exclamation from the boy from Eight, who’s been staking out the window in the rehearsal room door.

“They’re done! The judges! They just walked by!”

There’s a hush as the tributes process the news, and Katniss watches as there’s a mad rush to the door to see if he’s telling the truth.

“Was it them?” she asks Glimmer, who had forced her way to the window, knocking three people aside to get there. Glimmer nods. Katniss feels all of her panic resurface in an instant.

She feels Peeta grab her hand, a preemptive measure to keep her breathing. She looks over at him gratefully. “You had that look on your face,” he says. Katniss tries to smile, but she’s pretty sure it comes out as more of a scowl.

What feels like hours later, Katniss drumming her heels on the floor for lack of any better way to get out her nervous energy, the door opens.

“We’re ready for you.”

Katniss lets Peeta help her up and they find their places at the end of a long, snaking line that stretches the width of the studio.

“You okay?” Peeta’s leaning toward her. Katniss is holding onto his hand like it’s a lifeline. She nods quickly.

“You were right, by the way.”

Peeta frowns at her, confused. “Right about what?”

“Prim _loves_ you.”

The look on Peeta’s face, Katniss thinks, is almost as good as winning the Prix. Almost.

The line starts moving, and Katniss takes a deep breath. Before she knows it, they’re at the stage, jostling for space in the wings with the dancers coming offstage. Katniss notices more than a few curious looks being thrown her and Peeta’s way from the CBC dancers.

Katniss can see the three judges standing onstage with Caesar. The tributes make their way onto the stage to welcoming applause, forming a loose clump stage right.

“I’m sure everyone is anxiously awaiting the results of the competition,” Caesar beams, “but first, let me introduce the judges once more!”

Katniss tunes him out and tries to find Prim in the crowd as Seneca Crane steps forward and bows indulgently, first to the audience, then to the tributes, who applaud him. Katniss claps halfheartedly. Next is Alma Coin, who steps forward and inclines her head in a brief nod before stepping back.

Katniss’ eyes narrow as the last man steps forward, a crowd-pleasing smile on his face, but Katniss can tell it’s all for show. Snow bows, she thinks, like he’s still performing, like he just finished a variation on this very stage. He doesn’t acknowledge the tributes, and as he steps back, Caesar is joined by a woman holding a tray with seven flat boxes on it.

“And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” Caesar says breathlessly. “The winners of the Prix de Panem.” He pulls an envelope from his suit jacket, and slides the piece of paper inside into his hand.

“Ladies first.” Caesar sounds so much like Madame in this moment, Katniss has to stifle a laugh.

“The winner of the bronze medal is . . .”

Katniss knows that as part of a pas de deux, she cannot win an individual medal, but her nerves don't seem to realize that fact.

“The Cupid variation from _Don Quixote_ , District Eleven!”

Rue actually looks around for a moment, searching for the winner, before she realizes it’s her. Thrilled, Katniss reaches for her, feels Rue trembling as she hugs her, pushing Rue to take her place center stage.

The tributes as one, applaud her. Rue accepts one of the boxes and cracks it open to show the medal inside. Photographs are taken. More applause. The silver medal goes to Clove. The girl from Five, Lukida, takes the gold.

Caesar moves onto the boys, announcing that Marvel’s _Jewels_ variation has won the bronze medal, and Thresh, the silver. Peeta claps especially hard as Thresh bows.

“The winner of the gold medal is . . . the Solor variation from _La Bayadère_ , District Two!”

Cato steps forward, almost haughtily taking his bow. Katniss can tell he’s disappointed with gold, that he wanted the final award. She wants to rip the medal from his hands, give it to one of the other tributes, one who will appreciate it more.

“And now, for our final award, the Grand Prix,” Caesar says solemnly, giving the award the weight it deserves. To win the Grand Prix is to dance perfection. To be more than the best girl, the best boy. To exceed every dancer in the competition.

Katniss searches blindly for Peeta’s hand.

She knows deep down, despite Mr. A’s insistence, that they won’t win the Grand Prix. Snow would never allow it. But until they call someone else, she allows herself to hope. She turns her head slightly to see Peeta is watching her, not Caesar. Her eyes lock on his.

“The winner of the Grand Prix, for this year’s Prix de Panem is . . .”

Katniss’ grip on Peeta’s hand tightens, almost to the point of pain. All they have worked for, all they have sacrificed, comes down to this moment.

“ _The Firebird_ pas de deux, District Twelve!”

Katniss goes numb.

They did it. They won.

The tributes around them are clapping, most looking genuinely happy for them. But all she can see is Peeta, who isn’t even smiling. He just looks shocked. Katniss knows how he feels. For all her posturing, for all her declarations, on the inside, she never truly believed it could happen. But now here they are, Prix de Panem winners.

Katniss tugs on Peeta’s hand. He looks down at where she’s pulling him, looks up at Katniss, and suddenly he's grinning, realizing what they've accomplished. They walk center stage to the cheers of the audience, giving them a standing ovation. They stand, triumphant, the first pas de deux to win, ever.

Katniss curtsies, deeply. She stays down, her head bowed, letting feelings of relief and joy wash over her. They’ve won. The audience shows no sign of letting the applause fade. She comes up, turns to Peeta, and curtsies to him, an acknowledgement that she could not have done this alone. He bows in return, his eyes only on her.

Someone hands her a bouquet of flowers, white roses. Katniss cradles them in her right elbow and plucks a single rose from the center. Tradition, still. She kisses the rose and offers it to Peeta, who accepts it, a grand gesture. Caesar presents Peeta with the flat box containing two medals, made of diamond.

The applause fades quickly, and Peeta begins to escort Katniss to the side to join the medal winners, to allow Caesar to make his closing remarks. They stop when they see the reason for the sudden silence stepping forward.

“I think we can all agree that this has been one of the most exciting competitions in recent memory,” Snow addresses the audience and the tributes on stage. The audience claps for them, again, showing no signs of tiring.

Katniss tenses. This is it. The offer. She's suddenly glad that they had been forewarned, that they've decided ahead of time. She practices the words in her head. _Thank you for the honor, but we would like to complete our studies at the academy_.

“It is in large part thanks to these two dancers.” Snow gestures to Katniss and Peeta, frozen in the act of walking away. “To show such fortitude in the face of adversity, is a quality all dancers should strive to achieve.” Katniss thinks it’s rich that Snow doesn’t mention that he’s the reason for the adversity they face.

“And so it must come as no surprise, that I am here today, to offer the Grand Prix winners—”

Slowly, almost lazily, Snow turns to look at Katniss. Before the words even leave his mouth, she knows this is a threat. He’s daring them to reject him.

“— _soloist_ contracts with the Capitol Ballet Company.”

Katniss’ mouth drops open. Soloists. Not the corps de ballet. But soloists.

Her mind races. They cannot turn this down, it would be incomprehensible. Instead of the diligent students, the darlings of the ballet world would become the arrogant tributes, too good for the generous, unprecedented gift Snow is offering them. No artistic director would ever accept them into their company, the spoiled Grand Prix winners who refused to become the youngest soloists in history.

Before Peeta can say anything, Katniss responds.

“We accept.”

A roar from the crowd, back on their feet again. They will not have to give them up, the Firebird and the Prince. Katniss is determinedly not looking at Peeta, but she can feel the shock radiating off him in waves.

Snow slowly lets a smile spread across his face, a duplicitous thing, and looks offstage and nods. The woman with the tray comes back out, but instead of medals, the tray holds two sheaves of paper, one ornate pen.

Katniss blanches. She didn't realize they'd have to do this here, now, but it seems that Snow wants to ensure their acceptance is iron-clad, that Mr. A will not find a way to get them out of it after the curtain falls.

The woman stops in front of Peeta, and slowly, like his arm is resisting him, he picks up the pen. He turns his head to look at Katniss. She can see the hurt at her betrayal in Peeta’s eyes, and she knows what she has done is unforgivable.

But he signs. Katniss is next, and when she looks up, Snow is looking directly at her. There is triumph in his eyes, and Katniss meets his stare with what she hopes is a look of defiance. He must see something that impresses him, because Snow raises an eyebrow and gestures toward the front of the stage.

“Take a bow, Miss Everdeen.”

Katniss looks out at the audience, then at Peeta. His expression is blank, but Katniss takes it as a good sign that he's still standing next to her. She takes his hand, squeezes it. Sometimes when they dance, Katniss is certain he can read her mind, the way he anticipates her movements. She hopes that he can understand her now, why she did what she did, that it was all for them.

Caesar’s shouting, excitement making his voice ragged.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the newest Capitol Ballet soloists, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!”

Katniss meets Peeta’s gaze. Flicking her eyes toward the audience, she asks him, “Together?”

He’s still for a moment, his eyes searching hers, and then Peeta nods, slowly.

“Together.”

And they step forward into their uncertain future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end. I do have plans for a sequel, so please let me know if that is something you would like to see, or would not like to see. (If you want to talk about anything else, steps, variations, Peeta Mellark, how _Sylphides_ is the worst, I’m on Tumblr at [wanderleave](http://wanderleave.tumblr.com/).) Many, many thanks to everyone who commented and read and kudosed and enjoyed this story. It's all for you. 
> 
> This story exists because of Maria Tallchief.
> 
> She was prima ballerina of New York City Ballet, and the first Native American ever to hold the title. She created the role of Firebird in George Balanchine’s ballet of the same name (you can watch video of her dancing the role [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0y_tWR07F7Y)). Something resonated with me the first time I read about her, and gave me the seeds of the idea that eventually became whatever it is you just read. (Also, if you have never heard the finale to _The Firebird_ , please remedy that [immediately](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WsqK1mCGeY&t=7m40s).)
> 
> And because this story is nothing without its supplemental materials, below you can find all twenty-two variations (and one pas de deux) danced in the Prix de Panem. (Where possible, as danced in competition.)
> 
> District 1 - _Jewels_
> 
> [Female variation](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=88CdG7ohozA&t=7m44s) / [Male variation](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ArLbpD38sc&t=18m56s)
> 
> District 2 - _La Bayadère_
> 
> [First Shade variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0vpKJPOJqw) / [Solor variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKM7d_kFKGU)
> 
> District 3 - _The Nutcracker_
> 
> [Sugar Plum Fairy variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhLPXInZ5W0) / [Cavalier variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FSxQiDxo5vE)
> 
> District 4 - _Le Corsaire_
> 
> [Medora variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-TmU0I5euk) / [Ali variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gbRR5kUj25o)
> 
> District 5 - _Paquita_
> 
> [Female variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_fUoUzAvAY) / [Male variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkvPkJUUh-M)
> 
> District 6 - _Sleeping Beauty_
> 
> [Lilac Fairy variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVw7wnDW0p4) / [Prince Désiré variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYRyOfw0vDg)
> 
> District 7 - _Les Sylphides_
> 
> [Female variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-HkjgbTzqk) / [Male variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yl0FIXUFTvM)
> 
> District 8 - _Giselle_
> 
> [Giselle variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ANCQ4q1qCY) / [Albrecht variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFMrjybDFSc)
> 
> District 9 - _Coppélia_
> 
> [Swanilda variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=taF-76u8oNc) / [Franz variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZmHONq9dps)
> 
> District 10 - _Swan Lake_
> 
> [White Swan variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJl1ZktxEhY) / [Prince Siegfried variation ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCsENjI3HLg)
> 
> District 11 - _Don Quixote_
> 
> [Cupid variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wG2SXm7TZiM) / [Basilio variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lL9OtJU-Y9w)
> 
> District 12 - _The Firebird_
> 
> [Prince Ivan and the Firebird pas de deux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JfjpqKwQ6P8)


End file.
